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COUNT  TOLSTOI'S    WORKS. 

$1.75 
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ANNA   KAR^NINA     .     .     

CHILDHOOD,  BOYHOOD,  AND  YOUTH    . 
IVAN  ILYITCH 

MY   RELIGION 

1.00 

MY  CONFESSION 

1.00 
1.25 

WHAT  TO    DO? 

THE   INVADERS  

1.25 

A   RUSSIAN    PROPRIETOR  ...... 

1  50 

THOMAS  Y   CROWELL  &  CO., 

PUBLISHERS. 
13  ASTOR   PLACE,   NEW   YORK. 

^ 


ivAn  ilyitch 


OTHER  STORIES 


BY 

COUNT  LYOF   N.  TOLSTOI 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE   RUSSIAN 

BY 

NATHAN    HASKELL   DOLE 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS    Y.    CROWELL    &    CO. 

13  AsTOR  Place 


SERV^TION 
EO 
TOBg 

30  1994 


PRESERVATION 
COPY  ADDED 
ORIGINAL  TO  BE 
RETAINED 


Copyright,  1887, 
By  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  CO. 


RAND   AVERY  COMPANY, 

ELECTROTYPERS  AND   PRINTERS 

BOSTON, 


PEEFAOE. 


The  short  stories  here  presented  form  about  one-half 
of  the  twelfth  volume  of  Count  Tolstoi's  collected 
writings.^  None  of  them  dates  back  more  than  three 
years.  They  represent  the  latest  phase  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  author's  peculiar  views,  —  an  evolution 
which  maybe  traced  from  01(^uen  in  "  The  Cossacks," 
through  Pierre  Beziikliof  in  *'War  and  Peace,"  and 
Levin  in  ''  Anna  Kar^nina,"  down  or  up  to  the  ideal- 
ized muzhik  who  lives  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow, 
does  good  for  evil,  makes  no  resistance  to  violence,  and 
comes  out  victorious  over  every  temptation  of  the 
grotesque  and  ncCive  Devil  and  his  imps.  With  the 
exception  of  "  The  Death  of  Ivdn  Ilyitch,"  which  is  a 
sombre  and  powerful  study  of  the  insidious  progress 
of  fatal  disease,  as  well  as  a  study  in  religious  philoso- 

*  Sochiri'y^niya  Ordfa  L.  N.  Tolstdvo :  Pro'izved4niya  PosVyMnikh 
gddof.    Moskva :  Tipografiya  M.  G.  Volchaninova,  1886. 

The  remainder  of  the  volume  coneistB  of  •*  What  Men  Live  By"  {Gh*y4n% 
Liudi  Zhivui) ;  two  papers  on  the  Revision,  or  Census,  in  Moscow,  the  sec- 
ond, '•Thoughts  suggested  by  the  Revision,"  now  translated  into  English 
under  the  title  "  What  to  do?  "  certain  selections  from  "  My  Religion  "  passed 
by  the  censor,  and  here  entitled  "  Wherein  Happiness  [consists]  "  (  Vch'yem 
StchasVy4);  and  finally  a  paper  written  in  1875  on  Popular  Education  (6> 
Narodnom  Obrazovanii). 


m5^97206 


VI  PREFACE. 

phy,  all  of  these  fifteen  tales  were  written  as  tracts 
for  the  people,  illustrated  in  many  cases  with  quaint 
wood-cuts.  This  form  of  composition  was  very  likely 
suggested  to  Count  Tolstoi  by  the  popular  tales  that 
have  been  in  vogue  in  Russia  for  three  or  four  hundred 
years. 

.  Such,  for  example,  is  the  fifteenth-century  "  Story  of 
Vasarga  the  Merchant,"  in  which  the  child  Mudro- 
muisl,  or  Wise  Thought,  solves  the  riddles  of  the  wicked 
Tsar  Nesmian.  This  grim  but  dull-minded  tyrant 
treats  Dmitri  Vasarga  hospitably ;  but  when  the  guest, 
in  reply  to  his  question,  "What  is  thy  religion?'* 
doughtily  replies,  "I  am  of  the  Christian  religion,  of 
the  city  of  Kief,  the  little  merchant  Dmitri;  and  I 
believe  in  one  God,  —  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost," 
he  is  given  one  of  these  choices :  to  adopt  the  false 
religion  of  the  grim  tsar,  and  have  great  honor ;  to 
solve  three  riddles,  or,  if  he  fail  to  solve  the  riddles, 
and  still  stand  firm,  to  go  to  prison,  and  starve  to 
death.  It  is  Mudro-muisl  who  saves  his  father's 
wealth  and  health.  He  puts  the  t3Tant  to  shame,  is 
elected  to  the  throne  by  a  vote  of  the  people,  who  were 
Christian  at  heart  in  spite  of  their  tsar,  and,  having 
released  from  the  noisome  dungeon  the  three  hundred 
and  thirty  starving  merchants  who  had  been  time  to 
their  faith,  he  establishes  free  trade,  and  becomes  a 
prosperous  and  admirable  prince,  —  a  most  suggestive 
and  inspiring  story  for  any  nation  that  had  lurking 
desires  for  democracy.     Its  moral  is  simply  this  :  that 


PREFACE.  Vii 

the  mler  of  a  country,  even  though  he  be  fortified 
on  the  throne  with  wealth  and  power,  is,  nevertheless, 
at  the  mercy  of  a  little  child  who  has  the  wit  to  control 
and  utilize  the  sentiment  of  the  whole  people. 

The  story  of  Vasarga  is  four  centuries  old,  and 
Russia  has  not  even  a  constitution.  Will  Count  Tols- 
toi's theories  of  non-resistance  and  communism,  of  the 
blessings  of  poverty  and  service,  be  in  practice  four 
hundred  years  hence  ? 

These  stories  will  be  regarded  both  seriously  and  as 
curiosities,  for  it  is  impossible  not  to  read  between 
the  lines.  The  only  wonder  is,  that  the  censor  who 
forbade  "My  Religion''  should  have  allowed  the 
skazka  entitled  "Ivdn  Durdk."  The  implication  of 
criticism  on  the  whole  military  system  of  Russia  is 
not  even  covert.  The  question  of  regicide  is  plainly 
discussed  in  '*  A  Candle."  Though  regicide  itself  is 
condemned,  it  is  not  dubious  who  is  meant  by  the 
priMshchik  of  the  story.  Count  Tolstoi's  whole  sys- 
tem of  philosophy  is  concretely  revealed  m  these  alle- 
gorical tales :  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  discuss  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  his  logic.  But  there  are  few 
who  will  not  be  touched  by  the  moral  which  Count 
Tolstoi  conveys  by  means  of  these  curious  tales. 

In  the  translation  of  these  stories,  no  attempt  has 
been  made  to  make  smooth,  easy  reading :  the  effort 
has  been  rather  to  reproduce  the  crisp,  sharp  staccato 
of  the  Russian.  When  Count  Tolstoi  says.  On  shoU 
shol,  the  rendering  is,  He  went,  went;  and  the  delib- 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

erate  mixture  of  tenses,  past  and  present,  has  been 
pretty  carefully  followed,  so  far  as  the  rhythm  of 
translation  allowed. 

Thus  a  certain  flavor  of  the  original  has,  it  is  hoped, 
been  retained  ;  though,  of  course,  the  style  is  crabbed, 
and  will  very  likely  invite  criticism.  The  translator 
was  confronted  with  the  puzzling  question  of  the  use 
of  Russian  words  in  the  text.  The  use  of  some  words 
Is  certainly  justified.  Muzhik,  or  moujic,  izbd,  samo- 
var, vodka,  dvornik,  and  others,  have  been  utilized  so 
much  in  all  works  on  Russia,  that  it  would  be  affecta- 
tion to  translate  them  into  peasant,  hut,  or  cottage, 
tea-urn,  brandy,  hall-servant,  or  hostler.  In  other 
cases,  a  Russian  word  not  difficult  to  pronounce  stands 
for  several  words ;  as  khozydin  for  master  of  the 
house,  baba  for  peasant-woman.  So  with  diminutives  ; 
bdtiushka  is  easier  to  say  than  little  grandfather. 
Moreover,  as  in  all  Scotch  stories,  Scotch  words  are 
freely  used,  and  unquestionably  to  advantage ;  so  the 
moderate  use  of  Russian  words  seems  to  be  needed, 
especially  where  there  is  no  exact  equivalent.  Thus, 
in  the  curious  story,  "  The  Godson,"  it  seemed  absurd 
to  go  on  calling  an  old  man  a  godson.  The  Russian 
word  kr^stnilc  is  so  near  like  our  christened,  having  a 
like  derivation,  that  it  was  adopted  without  much  hesi- 
tation. A  glossary  of  all  the  words  employed  in  the 
text  may  not  be  found  amiss.  For  the  sake  of  some 
reader,  who  may  like  a  little  stronger  flavor  of  the 
original,  certain  words  and  expressions  are  referred  to 


PREFACE.  IX 

in  foot-notes,  especially  where  the  same  original  is  ren- 
dered in  different  ways.  In  nearly  all  cases  the  stress 
is  indicated  by  accent-mark.  Vowels  have  continental 
pronunciation.  Y  before  a  vowel  makes  a  diphthong, 
as  in  L-yof, 

NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE. 

New  York,  June  1,  1887. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

^THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH     ....        1 

IF    YOU    NEGLECT    THE    FIRE,    YOU    DON'T 

PUT  IT  OUT 91 

WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE  GOD  IS  ALSO     .        .     112 

A  CANDLE        .        .        . 129 

TWO  OLD  MEN 142 

TEXTS  FOR  WOOD-CUTS:  — 

The  Devil's  persistent,  but  God  is  resistant,    178 
Little  Girls  wiser  than  Old  Men     .        .        .181 

Two  Brothers  and  Gold 184 

ILYAS 187 

THE  THREE  MENDICANTS         .        .        .        .        .194 

POPULAR  LEGENDS:— 

How  THE  Little  Devil  earned  a  Crust   op 

Bread 204 

The  Repentant  Sinner 208 

A  Seed  as  Big  as  a  Hen's  Egg    .        .       .        .211 
Does  a  Man  need  Much  Land?  .        .        .       .215 

THE  GODSON 236 

SKAZKA  (Ivan  the  Fool) 266 

GLOSSARY 311 

xi 


THE   DEATH    OP   IVAN   ILYITCH. 

(1884-1886.) 


In  the  great  hall  of  justice,  while  the  proceedings  in 
the  Melvinsky  suit  were  at  a  standstill,  the  members 
of  the  board  and  the  prokuror  held  a  re-union  in  Ivan 
Yegorovitch  Shebek's  private  room,  and  the  conversa- 
tion turned  on  the  famous  Krasovsky  suit.  Feodor 
Vasily^vitch  talked  himself  into  a  passion  in  pointing 
out  the  men's  innocence  ;  Ivan  Yegorovitch  maintained 
his  side ;  but  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  who  had  not  entered  into 
the  discussion  at  first,  took  no  part  in  it  even  now,  and 
continued  to  fix  his  eyes  on  the  copy  of  the  Vy4domosti 
which  had  just  been  handed  to  him. 

'*  Gentlemen  I  "  said  he,  "  so  Ivdn  Ilyitch  is  dead !  '* 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

*'  Here  !  read  for  yourself,"  said  he  to  Feodor  Vasil- 
y^vitch,  handing  him  the  paper,  which  had  not  yet  lost 
its  odor  of  freshness. 

Heavy  black  lines  enclosed  these  printed  words : 
"  Praskovia  Feodorovna  Golovina,  with  heartfelt  sor- 
row, announces  to  relatives  and  friends  the  death  of 
her  beloved  husband,  Ivan  Ilyitch  Golovin,  member 
of  the  Court  of  Appeal,^  who  departed  this  life  on  the 

1  Sudyibnaya  Paldta. 


2  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

16th  February,  1882.  The  funeral  will  take  place  on 
Friday,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon." 

Ivan  Ilyitch  had  been  the  colleague  of  the  gentlemen 
there  assembled,  and  all  liked  him.  He  had  been  ill 
for  several  weeks,  and  it  was  said  that  his  case  was  in- 
curable. His  place  was  kept  vacant  for  him  ;  but  it 
had  been  decided,  that,  in  case  of  his  death,  Aleksy^ef 
might  be  assigned  to  his  place,  while  either  Vinnikof 
or  Shtabel  would  take  Aleksy^ef's  place.  And  so,  on 
hearing  of  Ivan  Ilyitch 's  death,  the  first  thought  of 
each  of  the  gentlemen  gathered  in  the  cabinet  was  in 
regard  to  the  changes  and  promotions  which  might  be 
brought  about,  among  the  members  of  the  council  and 
their  acquaintances,  in  consequence  of  this  death. 

"  Now,  surely,  I  shall  get  either  Shtabel' s  or  Vinni- 
kof's  place,"  was  Feodor  Vasilyevitch's  thought.  "  It 
has  been  promised  me  for  a  long  time ;  and  this  pro- 
motion will  mean  an  increase  in  my  salary  of  eight 
hundred  rubles,  not  to  mention  allowances." 

' '  I  must  propose  right  away  to  have  my  brother-in- 
law  transferred  from  Kaluga,"  thought  Piotr  Ivano- 
vitch.  "  My  wife  will  be  very  glad.  Now  it  will  be 
impossible  for  her  to  say  that  I  have  never  done  any 
thing  for  her  relations." 

"I  have  been  thinking  that  he  wouldn't  get  up 
again,"  said  Piotr  Ivanovitch  aloud.     "  It  is  too  bad." 

"  But  what  was  the  matter  with  him?  " 

"  The  doctors  could  not  determine.  That  is  to  say, 
they  determined  it,  but  each  in  his  own  way.  When  I 
saw  him  the  last  time,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  get- 
ting better.  But  I  haven't  been  to  see  him  since  the 
Christmas  holidays.     I  kept  meaning  to  go." 

"  Did  he  have  any  property?  " 

"  His  wife  had  a  little,  I  think.   But  a  mere  pittance." 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  3 

"  Well,  we  must  go  to  see  her.  They  live  a  fright- 
ful distance  off." 

''  That  is,  from  you.    Every  thing  is  far  from  you  ! " 

"  Now,  see  here !  He  can't  forgive  me  because  I 
live  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,"  said  Piotr  Ivano- 
vitch  to  Shebek,  with  a  smile.  And  then  they  talked 
about  the  long  distances  in  cities,  till  the  recess  was 
over. 

Over  and  above  the  considerations  caused  by  the 
death  of  this  man,  in  regard  to  the  mutations  and  possi- 
ble changes  in  the  court  that  might  result  from  it,  the 
very  fact  of  the  death  of  an  intimate  friend  aroused  in 
all  who  knew  about  it,  as  is  ordinarily  the  case,  a  feeling 
of  pleasure  that  "  it  is  he,  and  not  I,  who  am  dead." 

Each  one  said  to  himself,  or  felt,  *'  Well,  he  is  dead, 
and  I  am  not."  The  intimate  acquaintances,  the  so- 
called  friends,  of  Ivan  Ilyitch  involuntarily  had  these 
thoughts,  and,  also,  that  now  it  was  incumbent  upon 
them  to  fulfil  the  very  melancholy  duty  of  etiquette,  in 
going  to  the  funeral,  and  paying  a  visit  of  condolence 
to  the  widow. 

Feodor  Vasily^vitch  and  Piotr  Ivanovitch  had  been 
more  intimate  with  him  than  the  others. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  had  been  his  fellow  in  the  law- 
school,  and  considered  that  he  was  under  obligations 
to  Ivdn  Ilyitch. 

Having,  at  dinner-time,  informed  his  wife  of  Ivan 
Ilyitch's  death,  and  his  reflections  as  to  the  possibility 
of  his  brother-in-law's  transfer  into  their  circle,  Piotr 
Ivanovitch,  not  stopping  to  rest,  put  on  his  dress-coat, 
and  drove  off  to  Ivan  Ilyitch's. 

At  the  door  of  Ivan  Ilyitch's  residence  stood  a  car- 
riage and  two  izvoshchiks.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
in  the  hallway  by  the  hat-rack,  pushed  back  against 


4  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

the  wall,  was  the  brocaded  coffin-cover,  with  tassels  full 
of  purified  powered  camphor.  Two  ladies  in  black 
were  taking  off  their  shubkas.  One  whom  he  knew 
was  Ivan  Ilyitch's  sister:  the  other  lady  he  did  not 
know.  Piotr  Ivanovitch's  colleague,  Schwartz,  was  just 
coming  down-stairs ;  and,  as  he  recognized  the  new- 
comer, he  stopped  on  the  upper  step,  and  winked  at  him 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Ivan  Ilyitch  was  a  bad  manager : 
you  and  I  understand  a  thing  or  two.'* 

Schwartz's  face,  with  its  English  side- whiskers,  and 
his  spare  figure  under  his  dress-coat,  had,  as  always,  an 
elegant  solemnit}^ ;  and  this  solemnity,  which  was  for- 
ever contradicted  by  Schwartz's  jovial  nature,  here  had 
a  peculiar  piquancy,  so  Piotr  Ivanovitch  thought. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  gave  precedence  to  the  ladies,  and 
slowly  followed  them  up-stairs.  Schwartz  did  not 
make  any  move  to  descend,  but  waited  at  the  landing. 
Piotr  Ivanovitch  understood  his  motive.  Without 
doubt,  he  wanted  to  make  an  appointment  for  playing 
cards  that  evening.  The  ladies  mounted  the  stairs  to 
the  widow's  room  ;  and  Schwartz,  with  lips  gravely  com- 
pressed and  firm,  and  with  mischievous  eyes,  indicated 
to  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  by  the  motion  of  his  brows,  the 
room  at  the  right,  where  the  dead  man  was. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  entered,  having  that  feeling  of  un- 
certainty, ever  present  under  such  circumstances,  as  to 
what  would  be  the  proper  thing  to  do.  But  he  knew 
that  the  sign  of  the  cross  never  came  amiss.  As  to 
whether  he  ought  to  make  a  salutation  or  not,  he  was 
not  quite  sure ;  and  he  therefore  took  a  middle  course. 
As  he  went  into  the  room,  he  began  to  cross  himself, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  he  made  an  almost  impercepti- 
ble inclination.  As  far  as  he  was  permitted  by  the 
motion  of  his  hands  and  head,  he  took  in  the  appear- 


THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  5 

ance  of  the  room.  Two  3'oung  men,  apparently  neph- 
ews,—  one,  agymnazist, —  were  just  leaving  the  room, 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross.  An  old  woman  was 
standing  motionless  ;  and  a  lady,  with  strangely'  arched 
eyebrows,  was  saying  something  to  her  in  a  whisper. 
A  hearty-looking,  energetic  sacristan^  in  a  frock  was 
reading  something  with  an  expression  that  forbade  all 
objection.  The  dining-room  muzhik,  Gerasim,  was 
sprinkling  something  on  the  floor,  passing  slowly  in 
front  of  Fiotr  Ivanovitch.  As  he  noticed  this,  Piotr 
Ivanovitch  immediately  became  cognizant  of  a  slight 
odor  of  decomposition. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch,  at  his  last  call  upon  Ivan  Ilyitch, 
had  seen  this  muzhik  in  the  library.  He  was  perform- 
ing the  duties  of  nurse,  and  Ivan  Ilyitch  was  extremely 
fond  of  him. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  kept  crossing  himself,  and  bowing 
impartially  toward  the  corpse,  the  sacristan,  and  the 
ikons  that  stood  on  a  table  in  the  corner.  Then,  when 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  made  too  many  signs  of 
the  cross  with  his  hand,  he  stopped  short,  and  began  to 
gaze  at  the  corpse. 

The  dead  man  lay  in  the  drapery  of  the  coffin,  as 
dead  men  always  lie,  a  perfectly  lifeless  weight,  abso- 
lutely unconscious,  with  stiffeoed  limbs,  with  head  for- 
ever at  rest  on  the  pillow ;  and,  like  every  corpse,  his 
brow  was  like  yellow  wax,  with  spots  on  the  sunken 
temples,  and  his  nose  so  prominent  as  almost  to  press 
down  upon  the  upper  lip. 

He  had  greatly  changed,  and  was  far  more  emaciated 
than  when  Piotr  Ivanovitch  had  last  seen  him  ;  but,  as 
in  the  case  of  all  the  dead,  his  face  was  more  beautiful, 
especially  more  dignified,  than  it  had  been  when  he  was 

1  IHatchdk. 


6  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

alive.  On  his  face  was  an  expression  signifying  that 
what  he  was  required  to  do,  that  he  had  done,  and  had 
done  it  in  due  form.  Besides  this,  there  was  in  his 
expression  a  reproach  or  warning  to  the  living.  This 
warning  seemed  ill-judged  to  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  or  at 
least  was  not  applicable  to  him.  There  was  some- 
thing displeasing  in  it ;  and  therefore  Piotr  Ivanovitch 
again  crossed  himself  hastil}',  and,  it  seemed  to  him, 
too  hastily,  in  an  absurdly  indecorous  manner,  turned 
around,  and  left  the  room. 

Schwartz  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  next  chamber, 
standing  with  legs  wide  apart,  and  with  both  hands 
behind  his  back  twirling  his  tall  hat.  Piotr  Ivanovitch 
was  cheered  by  the  first  glance  at  Schwartz's  jovial, 
tidy,  elegant  figure.  Piotr  Ivanovitch  comprehended 
that  Schwartz  was  superior  to  these  things,  and  did  not 
give  way  to  these  harassing  impressions.  His  ap- 
pearance alone  said.  The  incident  of  Iv^n  Ilyitch's 
funeral  should  never  serve  as  a  suflBcient  reason  for 
breaking  into  the  order  of  exercises  of  the  session  ; 
that  is  to  say,  nothing  should  hinder  them  that  very 
evening  from  undoing  and  shuffling  a  pack  of  cards 
while  the  servant  was  putting  down  four  fresh  candles  : 
as  a  general  rule,  there  is  no  occasion  to  presuppose 
that  this  incident  should  prevent  them  from  having  a 
good  time  that  evening,  as  well  as  any  other.  He  even 
said  this  in  a  whisper  to  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  and  proposed 
that  they  meet  for  a  game  at  Feodor  Vasily^vitch's. 
But  it  will  be  seen  that  it  was  not  Piotr  Ivanovitch's 
fate  to  play  cards  till  late  that  evening. 

Praskovia  Feodorovna,  a  short  woman,  and  stout  in 
spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  the  contrary,  for  her  figure 
grew  constantly  wider  and  wider  from  her  shoulders 
down,  dressed  in  full  mourning,  with  lace  on  her  head, 


.     THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  7 

and  with  the  same  extraordinary  arched  eyebrows  as 
the  lady  who  had  been  standing  by  the  coffin,  came  out 
from  her  rooms  with  other  ladies ;  and  as  she  passed 
them  at  the  door  of  the  death-chamber,  she  said, 
''  Mass  will  take  place  immediately.  Please  come 
in." 

Schwartz,  making  a  slight,  indefinite  bow,  stood  still, 
evidently  undecided  whether  to  accept  or  to  decline 
this  proposition.  Praskovia  Feodorovna,  as  soon  as 
she  recognized  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  sighed,  came  quite 
close  to  him,  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  ''I 
know  that  you  were  a  true  friend  of  Ivan  Ilyitch's;'* 
and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  awaiting  his  action 
to  respond  to  her  words. 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  knew,  that,  just  as  in  the  other  case 
it  had  been  incumbent  upon  him  to  make  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  so  here  he  must  press  her  hand,  sigh,  and  say, 
''  Why,  certainly."  And  so  he  did.  And  having  done 
so,  he  realized  that  the  desired  result  was  obtained,  — 
that  he  was  touched,  and  she  was  touched. 

"  Come,"  said  the  widow  :  **  before  it  begins,  I  must 
have  a  talk  witli  you.     Give  me  3'our  arm." 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  offered  her  his  arm ;  and  they 
walked  along  to  the  inner  rooms,  passing  by  Schwartz, 
who  winked  compassionately  at  Piotr  Ivanovitch. 

His  jovial  glance  said,  ''  It's  all  up  with  your  game 
of  vint;  but  don't  be  concerned,  we'll  find  another  part- 
ner.    We'll  cut  in  when  you  get  through." 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  sighed  still  more  deeply  and  griev- 
ously, and  Praskovia  Feodorovna  pressed  his  arm  grate- 
fully. 

When  they  entered  her  parlor,  which  had  hangings 
of  rose-colored  cretonne,  and  was  dimly  lighted  by  a 
lamp,  they  sat  down  near  a  table,  — she  on  a  sofa,  but 


8  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCE.     , 

Piotr  Ivanovitch  on  a  low  ottoman,^  the  springs  of 
which  were  out  of  order,  and  yielded  unevenly  under 
his  weight.  Praskovia  Feodorovna  wanted  to  suggest 
to  him  to  take  another  chair ;  but  to  make  such  a  sug- 
gestion seemed  out  of  place  in  her  situation,  and  she 
gave  it  up.  As  he  sat  down  on  the  ottoman,  Piotr 
Ivanovitch  remembered  how,  when  Ivdn  Ilyitch  was 
decorating  that  parlor,  he  had  asked  his  opinion  about 
this  very  same  rose-colored  cretonne,  with  its  green 
leaves.  As  the  widow  passed  by  the  table  in  going  to 
the  divan,  —  the  whole^  parlor  was  crowded  with  orna- 
ments and  furniture,  — she  caught  the  black  lace  of  her 
black  mantilla  on  the  wood-work.  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  got 
up,  in  order  to  detach  it ;  and  the  ottoman,  freed  from 
his  weight,  began  to  shake  and  jostle  him.  The  widow 
herself  was  busy  disengaging  her  lace ;  and  Piotr  Ivdn- 
ovitch  sat  down  again,  flattening  out  the  ottoman 
which  had  rebelled  under  him.  But  still  the  widow 
could  not  get  free,  and  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  again  arose ; 
and  again  the  ottoman  rebelled,  and  even  creaked. 

When  all  this  was  arranged,  she  took  out  a  clean 
cambric  handkerchief,  and  began  to  weep.  The  episode 
with  the  lace  and  the  struggle  with  the  ottoman  had 
thrown  a  chill  over  Piotr  Ivdnovitch,  and  he  sat  with  a 
frown.  This  awkward  situation  was  interrupted  by 
Sokolof ,  Ivdn  llyitch's  butler,  with  the  announcement 
that  the  lot  in  the  graveyard,  which  Praskovia  Feodor- 
ovna had  selected,  would  cost  two  hundred  rubles. 
She  ceased  to  weep,  and,  with  the  air  of  a  martyr, 
looked  at  Piotr  Ivdnovitch,  saying  in  French  that  it 
was  very  trying  for  her.  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  made  a 
silent  gesture,  signifying  his  undoubted  belief  that  this 
was  inevitable. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   TLYITCH.  9 

"  Smoke,  I  beg  of  you !  "  she  said,  with  a  voice  ex- 
pressive of  magnanimity  as  well  as  melancholy.  And 
she  discussed  with  Sokolof  the  price  of  the  lot. 

As  Piotr  Ivanovitch  began  to  smoke,  he  overheard 
her  very  circumstantially  inquiring  into  the  various 
prices  of  land,  and  finally  determine  upon  the  one 
which  it  suited  her  to  purchase.  When  she  had  set- 
tled upon  the  lot,  she  also  gave  her  orders  in  regard  to 
the  singers.     Sokolof  withdrew. 

''I  attend  to  every  thing  myself,"  she  said  to  Piotr 
Ivdnovitch,  moving  to  one  side  the  albums  that  lay  on 
the  table  ;  and  then,  noticing  that  the  ashes  were  about 
to  fall  on  the  table,  she  hastened  to  hand  Piotr  Ivdno- 
vitch  an  ash-tray,  and  continued,  — 

''  It  would  be  hypocritical  for  me  to  declare  that 
grief  prevents  me  from  attending  to  practical  affairs. 
On  the  contrary,  though  it  cannot  console  me,  yet  it 
may  divert  my  mind  from  my  troubles." 

Again  she  took  out  her  handkerchief,  as  though  pre- 
paring to  weep ;  and  suddenly,  as  though  making  an 
effort  over  herself,  she  shook  herself,  and  began  to- 
speak  calmly :  — 

*^  At  all  events,  I  have  some  business  with  you." 

Piotr  Ivdnovitch  bowed,  not  giving  the  springs  of 
the  ottoman  a  chance  to  rise  up  against  him,  since 
only  the  moment  before  they  had  been  misbehaving 
under  him. 

'-^  During  the  last  days,  his  sufferings  were  terrible." 

''  He  suffered  very  much?  "  asked  Piotr  Ivdnovitch. 

"  Akh  !  terribly  !  During  his  last,  not  moments,  but 
hours  he  did  not  cease  to  shriek.  For  three  days  and 
nights  he  shrieked  all  the  time.  It  was  unendurable. 
I  cannot  understand  how  I  stood  it.  You  could  hear 
him  through  three  doors  1     Akh !  how  I  suffered !  " 


10  THE   DEATH  OF   fVAN  ILYITCH. 

"And  was  he  in  his  senses?'*  asked  Piotr  Ivdno- 
viteh. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  "  to  the  last  moment. 
He  bade  us  farewell  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  he 
died,  and  even  asked  us  to  send  Volodia  out." 

The  thought  of  the  sufferings  of  a  man  whom  he  had 
known  so  intimately,  first  as  a  jolly  child  ^  and  school- 
bo3%  and  then  in  adult  life  as  his  colleague,  suddenly 
filled  Piotr  Iv^novitch  with  terror  in  spite  of  the  un- 
pleasant sense  of  this  woman's  hypocrisy  and  his  own. 
Once  more  he  saw  that  forehead,  that  nose  nipping  on 
the  lip,  and  he  felt  frightened  for  himself. 

"Three  days  and  nights  of  horrible  sufferings  and 
death  !  Perhaps  this  may  happen  to  me  also,  instantly, 
at  any  moment,"  he  said  to  himself.  And  for  an 
instant  he  felt  panic-stricken.  But  immediatelj',  though 
he  himself  knew  not  how,  there  came  to  his  aid  the 
common  idea,  that  as  this  had  happened  to  Ivdn  Ilyitch, 
and  not  to  him,  therefore  such  a  thing  had  no  busi- 
ness to  happen  to  him,  and  could  not  be  possible  ;  that 
as  he  thought  so,  he  had  fallen  into  a  melancholy  frame 
of  mind,  which  was  a  fooUsh  thing  to  do,  as  was  evi- 
dent by  Schwartz's  face. 

In  the  course  of  these  reflections,  Piotr  Ivdnovitch 
became  calm,  and  began  with  interest  to  ask  for  the 
details  of  Iv^n  Ilyitch's  decease,  as  though  death  were 
some  accident  peculiar  to  Ivan  Ilyitch  alone,  and  abso- 
lutely remote  from  himself. 

After  speaking  at  greater  or  less  length  of  the  de- 
tails of  the  truly  terrible  physical  sufferings  endured 
by  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  —  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  listened  to  these 
details  simply  because  Praskovia  Feodorovna's  nerves 
had  been  affected  by  her  husband's  sufferings,  —  the 

1  Malchik. 


THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  11 

widow  evidently  felt  that  it  was  time  to  come  to  the 
pomt. 

''  Akh !  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  !  how  painful !  how  horri- 
bly painful!  how  horribly  painful!"  and  again  the 
tears  began  to  flow.  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  sighed,  and 
waited  till  she  had  blown  her  nose.  When  she  had 
blown  her  nose,  he  said,  "  Believe  me"  .  .  .  And  again 
the  springs  of  her  speech  were  unloosed,  and  she  ex- 
plained what  was  apparently  her  chief  object  in  seeing 
him :  this  matter  concerned  the  problem  of  how  she 
should  make  her  husband's  death  secure  her  funds  from 
the  treasury.  She  pretended  to  ask  Piotr  Ivanovitch's 
advice  about  a  pension  ;  but  he  clearl}-  saw  that  she 
had  already  mastered  the  minutest  points,  even  those 
that  he  himself  knew  not,  in  the  process  of  extracting 
from  the  treasury  the  greatest  possible  amount  in  case 
of  death.  But  what  she  wanted  to  find  out,  was  whether 
it  were  not  possible  to  become  the  recipient  of  still 
more  money. 

Piotr  Ivdnovitch  endeavored  to  devise  some  means 
to  this  effect ;  but  having  pondered  a  little,  and  out  of 
politeness  condemned  our  government  for  its  niggardli- 
ness, he  said  that  it  seemed  to  him  impossible  to  obtain 
more.  Then  she  sighed,  and  evidently  began  to  de- 
vise some  means  of  getting  rid  of  her  visitor.  He 
understood,  put  out  his  cigarette,  arose,  pressed  her 
hand,  and  passed  into  the  ante-room. 

In  the  dining-room,  where  stood  the  clock  that  Ivdn 
llyitch  had  taken  such  delight  in,  when  he  purchased 
it  at  a  bnc-d,-brac  shop,  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  met  the 
priest  and  a  few  more  acquaintances  who  had  come  to 
the  funeral ;  and  he  recognized  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  daughter, 
a  pretty  young  lady,  whom  he  knew.  She  was  in  full 
mourning.     Her  very  slender  figure  seemed  more  slen- 


12  THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN   TLYITCH. 

der  than  usual.  She  had  an  appearance  of  melancholy, 
determination,  almost  of  irritation.  She  bowed  to 
Piotr  Ivanovitch  as  though  he  were  in  some  way  to 
blame.  Behind  the  daughter,  with  the  same  melan- 
choly look,  stood  a  rich  3'oung  magistrate  ^  of  Piotr 
Ivanovitch's  acquaintance,  who,  as  he  heard,  was  her 
betrothed.  He  bowed  to  them  disconsolately,  and  was 
about  to  pass  into  the  death-chamber,  when  he  saw  com- 
ing'up  the  stairs  the  slender  form  of  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  son, 
—  a  gymnasium  student,  and  a  striking  image  of  Ivdn 
llyitch.  It  was  the  same  little  \\(\n  Ilyitch  whom 
Piotr  Ivanovitch  remembered  at  the  law-school.  His 
eyes  were  wet  with  tears,  and  had  the  faded  appear- 
ance common  to  unhealthy  boys  of  thirteen  or  four- 
teen. The  boy,  upon  seeing  Piotr  Ivdnovitch,  started 
rudely  and  awkwardly  to  draw  back.  Piotr  Ivdnovitch 
nodded  at  him,  and  entered  the  death-chamber.  The 
mass  had  begun  :  there  were  candles,  groans,  incense, 
tears,  and  sobs.  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  stood  looking  gloom- 
ily at  his  feet.  He  did  not  once  glance  at  the  C9rpse, 
and  to  the  end  did  not  yield  to  the  softening  influ- 
ences ;  and  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  leave.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  ante-room.  Gerasim,  the  butler,'-^ 
rushed  from  the  dead  man's  late  room,  tossed  about  all 
the  fur  robes  with  his  strong  hands,  in  order  to  find 
Piotr  Ivanovitch's  shuba,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Well,  brother  Gerasim,"  said  Piotr  Ivanovitch,  so 
as  to  say  something,  "  it's  too  bad,  isn't  it?  " 

"  God's  will.  We  shall  all  be  there,"  said  Gerasim, 
showing  his  close,  white,  peasant's  teeth ;  and,  like  a 
man  earnestly  engaged  in  some  great  work,  he  opened 
the  door  with  alacrity,  called  the  coachman,  helped 
Piotr  Ivanovitch  into  the  carriage,  and  then  hastened 

1  Sudyebnui  slyedovatyel.  ^  Bufetnui  muzhik. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  13 

back  up  the  front  steps,  as  though  anxious  to  find 
something  ielse  to  do. 

Jt  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air,  after  the  odor  of  the  incense,  of 
the  dead  body,  and  the  carbolic  acid. 

''  Where  shall  I  drive  to?  "  asked  the  coachman. 

''  It's  not  too  late.  I'll  go  to  Feodor  Vasily^vitch, 
after  all." 

And  Piotr  Ivdnovitch  drove  off.  And,  in  fact,  he 
found  them  just  finishing  the  first  rubber,  so  that  it 
was  convenient  for  him  to  cut  in. 


14  THE  DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 


II. 


The  history  of  Ivan  Ilyitch's  past  life  was  most  sim- 
ple and  uneventful,  and  yet  most  terrible. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  died  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  a  member 
of  the  Court  of  Justice.  He  was  the  sou  of  a  tchinov- 
nik,  who  had  followed,  in  various  ministries  and  de- 
partments at  Petersburg,  a  career  such  as  brings  men 
into  a  position  from  which,  on  account  of  their  long 
service  and  their  rank,  they  are  never  turned  adrift, 
even  though  it  is  plainly  manifest  that  their  actual 
usefulness  is  at  an  end  ;  and  consequently  they  obtain 
imaginary,  fictitious  places,  and  from  six  to  ten  thou- 
sand that  are  not  fictitious,  on  which  they  live  till  a 
good  old  age. 

Such  wts  Ilya  Yefimovitch  Golovin,  privy  councillor, 
the  useless  member  of  various  useless  commissions. 

He  had  three  sons  :  Ivan  Ilyitch  was  the  second  son. 
The  eldest  had  followed  the  same  career  as  his  father's, 
but  in  a  different  ministry,  and  was  already  nearing 
that  period  of  his  service  in  which  inertia  carries  a 
man  into  emoluments.  The  third  son  had  made  a  flash 
in  the  pan.  He  had  failed  completely  in  several  posi- 
tions, and  he  was  now  connected  with  railroads ;  and 
his  father  and  brothers  not  only  disliked  to  meet  him, 
but,  except  when  it  was  absolutely'  necessary,  even 
forgot  that  he  existed. 

A  sister  was  married  to  Baron  Gref,  who,  like  his 
father-in-law,  was  a  Petersburg  tchinovnik.     Ivan  li- 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  15 

yitch  was  le  plienix  de  lafamille^  as  they  used  to  say. 
He  was  neither  as  chilly  and  accurate  as  the  eldest 
brother,  nor  as  unpromising  as  the  youngest.  He  held 
the  golden  mean  between  them,  —  an  intelligent,  lively, 
agreeable,  and  polished  man.  He  had  studied  at  the 
law-school  with  his  youuger  brother.  The  younger  did 
not  graduate,  but  was  expelled  from  the  fifth  class ; 
but  Ivdn  Iljitch  finished  his  course  creditably.  At 
the  law- school,  he  showed  the  same  characteristics  by 
which  he  was  afterwards  distinguished  all  his  life :  he 
was  capable,  good-natured  even  to  gayety,  and  socia- 
ble, but  strictly  fulfilling  all  that  he  considered  to  be 
his  duty  :  duty,  in  his  opinion,  was  all  that  is  considered 
to  be  such  by  men  in  the  highest  station.  He  was  not 
one  to  curry  favor,  either  as  a  boy,  or  afterwards  in 
manhood :  but  from  his  earliest  years  he  had  been  at- 
tracted by  men  in  the  highest  station  in  society,  just  as 
a  fly  is  by  the  light ;  ^  he  adopted  their  ways,  their  views 
of  life,  and  entered  into  relations  of  friendship  with 
them.  All  the  inclinations  of  childhood  and  youth  had 
passed  away,  not  leaving  serious  scars.  He  gd^^e  way  to 
sensuality  and  vanity,  and,  toward  the  last  of  his  life, 
to  the  higher  forms  of  liberality,  but  all  within  the  proper 
limits  which  his  nature  faithfully  prescribed  for  him. 

He  had,  at  the  law-school,  taken  part  in  certain 
actions,  which,  at  the  time,  seemed  to  him  low,  and, 
even  while  he  was  engaged  in  them,  aroused  in  him 
deep  scorn  for  himself.  But  afterwards,  finding  that 
these  things  nad  been  done  by  men  ot  high  position, 
and  were  not  considered  by  them  disgraceful,  he  came 
to  regard  them,  not  indeed  as  worthy,  but  put  them 
entirely  out  of  his  mind,  and  was  not  in  the  least 
troubled  by  the  recollection  of  them. 

*  In  lluBBian,  the  word  for  light  and  society  is  the  same. 


16  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

When  Ivdn  llyiicli  had  graduated  from  the  law- 
school  with  the  tenth  rank,^  and  received  from  his 
father  some  monej-  for  his  uniform,  he  ordered  a  suit 
of  Scharmer,  added  to  his  trinkets  the  little  medal  with 
the  legend  respice  Jinem^  bade  the  prince  and  principal 
farewell,  ate  a  dinner  with  his  schoolmates  at  Donon's, 
and  furnished  with  new  and  stylish  trunk,  linen,  uni- 
form, razors,  and  toilet  articles,  and  a  plaid,  ordered 
or  bought  at  the  very  best  shops,  he  departed  for  the 
l)rovince,  through  his  father's  recommendation,  in 
the  capacity  of  tchinovnik,  with  a  special  message  to 
the  governor. 

In  the  province,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  at  once  got  himself  into 
the  same  sort  of  easy  and  agreeable  position  as  his 
position  in  the  law-school  had  been.  He  attended  to 
his  duties,  pressed  forward  in  his  career,  and  at  the 
same  time  enjoyed  life  in  a  cheerful  and  circum- 
spect manner.  From  time  to  time,  delegated  by  his 
chiefs,  he  visited  tlie  districts,  bore  himself  with  dig- 
nity toward  ])oth  his  superiors  and  subordinates,  and, 
without  overweening  conceit,  fulfilled  with  punctuality 
and  incorruptible  integrity  the  duties  imposed  upon 
him,  pre-eminently  in  the  affair  of  the  i-askolniks.*^ 

Notwithstanding  his  youth,  and  his  tendency  to  be 
gay  and  easy-going,  he  was,  in  matters  of  state, 
tlioroughly  discreet,  and  carried  his  official  reserve 
even  to  sternness.     But  in  society  he  was  often  merry 

'  That  is,  as  Kolly^zhski  Sekretar,  corresponding  to  Shtaps-Kapitan  in 
the  army :  the  next  rank  in  the  Tchin  would  be  titular  councillor, — titul- 
yarnui  Sovyetnik,  —  which  confers  personal  nobiiity. 

2  Dissenters.  The  first  body  of  raskolniks,  called  the  "  Old  Believers," 
arose  in  the  time  of  the  Patriarch  Nikon,  who,  in  1654,  revised  the  Scriptures. 
A  quarrel  as  to  the  number  of  fingers  to  be  used  in  giving  the  blessing,  and 
the  manner  of  spelling  Jesus,  seems  to  have  been  the  chief  cause  of  the  raskolt 
or  schism.  The  Greek  Church  has  uow  to  contend  with  a  host  of  different 
forms  of  dissent.  —  N.  H.  D. 


THE   DEATH   OF   IVAN  ILYITCH.  17 

and  witty,  and  always  good-natured,  polite,  and  bon 
evfant,^  as  he  was  called  by  his  chief  and  his  chief's 
wife,  at  whose  house  he  was  intimate. 

While  he  was  in  the  province,  he  had  maintained 
relations  with  one  of  those  ladies  who  are  ready  to 
jQing  themselves  into  the  arms  of  an  elegant  young 
lawyer.  There  was  also  a  dressmaker ;  and  there 
were  occasional  sprees  with  visiting  fliigel-adjutants, 
and  visits  to  some  out-of-the-way  street  after  supper : 
but  all  dissipation  of  this  sort  was  attended  with  such 
a  high  tone,  that  it  could  not  be  qualified  by  hard 
names ;  it  all  squared  with  the  rubric  of  the  French 
expression,  Ilfaiit  que  jeunesse  se  passe. ^ 

All  was  done  with  clean  hands,  with  clean  linen, 
with  French  words,  and,  above  all,  in  company  with 
the  very  highest  society,  and  therefore  with  the  appro- 
bation of  those  high  in  rank. 

In  this  way,  Ivan  Ilyitch  served  five  years,  and  a 
change  was  instituted  in  the  service.  The  new  tribu- 
nals  were  established  :  new  men  were  needed. 

And  Ivan  Ilyitch  was  chosen  as  one  of  the  new 
men. 

Iv^n  Ilyitch  was  offered  the  position  of  examining 
magistrate ;  ^  and  IvAn  Ilyitch  accepted  it,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  this  place  was  in  another  gov- 
ernment, and  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  give  up  the 
connections  that  he  had  formed,  and  form  new  ones. 

IvAn  Ilyitch's  friends  saw  him  off.  They  were 
photographed  in  a  group  :  they  presented  him  a  silver 
cigarette-case,  and  he  departed  for  his  new  post. 

As  an  examining  magistrate,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  was  just 

*  In  French  in  the  original. 

2  "A  man  must  sow  his  wild  oats." 

3  Sndytbnui  Slyedovatyel :  see  Anatole  Leroy  Beaulieu's  L'Empire  des 
Tsars,  vol.  ii. 


18  THE   DEATH   OF   IVAN    ILYITCH. 

as  comme  il  faut,  just  as  circumspect,  and  careful  to 
sunder  tlie  obligations  of  his  office  from  his  private 
life,  and  as  successful  in  winning  universal  considera- 
tion, as  when  he  was  a  tchinovnik  with  special  func- 
tions. The  office  of  magistrate  itself  was  vastly  more 
interesting  and  attractive  to  Ivdn  Ilyitch  than  his 
former  position. 

To  be  sure,  it  used  to  be  agreeable  to  him,  in  his 
former  position,  to  pass  with  free  and  eas}'  gait,  in 
his  Scharmer-made  uniform,  in  front  of  trembling 
petitioners  and  petty  officials,  waiting  for  an  inter- 
view, and  envying  him,  as  he  went  without  hesitation 
into  the  nachalnik's  private  room,  and  sat  down 
with  him  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea,  and  smoke  a  cigarette ; 
but  the  men  who  were  directly  dependent  upon  his 
pleasure  were  few,  —  merely  ispravniks^  and  raskol- 
niks,  if  he  were  sent  out  with  special  instructions. 
And  he  liked  to  meet  these  men,  dependent  upon  him, 
not  only  politely,  but  even  on  terms  of  comradeship : 
he  liked  to  make  them  feel  that  he,  who  had  the  power 
to  crush  them,  treated  them  simply,  and  like  friends. 
He  had  few  such  people  there. 

But  now,  as  examining  magistrate,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  felt 
that  all,  all  without  exception,  even  men  of  impor- 
tance, of  distinction,  all  were  in  his  hands,  and  that 
all  he  had  to  do  was  to  write  such  and  such  words  on 
a  piece  of  paper  with  a  heading,  and  this  important, 
distinguished  man  would  be  brought  to  him  in  the 
capacity  of  accused  or  witness,  and,  unless  he  wished 
to  ask  him  to  sit  down,  he  would  have  to  stand  in  his 
presence,  and  submit  to  his  questions.  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
never  took  undue  advantage  of  this  power:  on  the 
contrary,  he  tried  to  temper  the  expression  of  it.     But 

1  Police  captains. 


THE   DEATH   OF   IVAN   ILYITCH.  19 

the  consciousness  of  this  power,  and  the  possibility  of 
tempering  it,  furnished  for  him  the  chief  interest  and 
attractiveness  of  his  new  office. 

In  the  office  itself,  especially  in  investigations,  Ivan 
Ilyitch  was  very  quick  to  master  the  process  of  elimi- 
nating all  circumstances  extraneous  to  the  case,  and  of 
disentangling  the  most  complicated  details  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  case  would  be  pi'esented  on  paper, 
only  in  its  essentials,  and  absolutely  shorn  of  his  own 
personal  opinion,  and,  last  and  not  least,  no  necessary 
formality  would  be  neglected.  This  was  a  new  mode 
of  doing  things.  And  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  be 
engaged  in  putting  into  operation  the  code  of  1864. 

When  he  took  up  his  residence  in  a  new  city,  as  ex- 
amining magistrate,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  made  new  acquaint- 
ances and  ties :  he  put  himself  on  a  new  footing,  and 
adopted  a  somewhat  different  tone.  He  held  himself 
rather  aloof  from  the  provincial  authorities,  and  took 
up  with  a  better  circle  among  the  nobles  of  wealth  and 
position  dwelling  in  the  city ;  and  he  adopted  a  tone 
of  easy-going  criticism  of  the  government,  together 
with  a  moderate  form  of  liberalism  and  "civilized 
citizenship."  At  the  same  time,  though  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
in  no  wise  diminished  the  elegance  of  his  toilet,  yet  he 
ceased  to  shave  his  chin,  and  allowed  his  beard  to  grow 
as  it  would. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch 's  life  in  the  new  city  also  passed  very 
agreeably.  The  society  which  fronded  against  the 
government  was  good  and  friendly ;  his  salary  was 
larger  than  before ;  and,  while  he  had  no  less  zest  in 
life,  he  had  the  additional  pleasure  of  playing  whist,  a 
garfie  in  which,  as  he  enjoyed  playing  cards,  he  quickly 
learned  to  excel,  so  that  he  was  always  on  the  winning 
side. 


20  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH. 

After  two  years  of  service  in  the  new  city,  Ivdn 
Il3'itch  met  the  lady  who  became  his  wife.  Praskovia 
Feodorovna  Mikh^li  was  the  most  fascinating,  witty, 
brilliant  young  girl  in  the  circle  where  Ixkn  Ilyitch 
moved.  In  the  multitude  of  other  recreations,  and  as 
a  solace  from  the  labors  of  his  office,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  es- 
tablished sportive,  easy-going  relations  with  Praskovia 
Feodorovna. 

At  the  time  when  Iv^n  Ilyitch  was  a  tchinovnik  with 
special  functions,  he  had  been  a  passionate  lover  of 
danciug ;  but  now  that  he  was  examining  magistrate, 
he  danced  only  as  an  occasional  exception.  He  now 
danced  with  the  idea,  that,  "  though  I  am  an  advocate 
of  the  new  order  of  things,  and  belong  to  the  fifth  class, 
still,  as  far  as  the  question  of  dancing  goes,  I  can  at 
least  show  that  in  this  respect  I  am  better  than  the 
rest.'* 

Thus,  frequently  it  happened  that  toward  the  end  of 
the  party,  he  danced  with  Praskovia  Feodorovna ;  and 
it  was  principally  at  the  time  of  these  dances,  that  he 
made  the  conquest  of  Praskovia  Feodorovna.  She  fell 
in  love  with  him.  Iv^n  Ilyitch  had  no  clearly  decided 
intention  of  getting  married  ;  but  when  the  girl  fell  in 
love  with  him,  he  asked  himself  this  question:  "In 
fact,  why  shouldn't  I  get  married?  "  said  he  to  himself. 

The  young  lady,  Praskovia  Feodorovna,  came  of  a, 
good  family  belonging  to  the  nobility ;  ^  far  from  ill- 
favored  ;  had  a  small  fortune.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  might  have 
aspired  to  a  far  more  brilliant  match,  but  this  was  an 
excellent  one.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  had  his  salary  :  "  she,"  he 
hoped,  "  will  have  as  much  more.  Good  family;  she 
is  sweet,  prett}-,  and  a  thoroughly  well-bred  womafa." 
To  say  that  Ivdn  Ilyitch  got  married  because  he  was 

»  Dvorianetvo. 


THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCIL  21 

in  love  with  his  betrothed,  and  found  in  her  sympathy 
with  his  views  of  life,  would  be  just  as  incorrect  as  to 
say  that  he  got  married  because  the  men  of  his  set 
approved  of  the  match. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  took  a  wife  for  two  reasons :  he  gave 
himself  a  pleasure  in  taking  such  a  wife ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  people  of  the  highest  rank  considered 
such  an  act  proper.     And  Ivan  Ilyitch  got  married. 

From  the  wedding  ceremony  itself,  and  the  first  few 
days  of  their  married  life  with  its  connubial  caresses, 
their  new  furniture,  their  new  plate,  their  new  linen, 
every  thing,  even  the  prospects  of  an  increasing  family, 
was  all  that  could  be  desired.  So  that  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
began  to  think  that  marriage  not  only  was  not  going 
to  disturb  his  easy-going,  pleasant,  ga}-,  and  always 
respectable  life,  so  approved  by  society,  and  which 
Ivdn  Ilyitch  considered  a  perfectly  natural  character- 
istic of  life  in  general,  but  was  also  going  to  add  to  it. 
But  from  the  first  months  of  his  wife's  pregnancy, 
there  appeared  something  new,  unexpected,  disagree- 
able, hard,  and  trying,  which  he  could  not  have  fore- 
seen, and  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  escape. 

His  wife,  without  any  motive,  as  it  seemed  to  Ivdn 
Ilyitch,  de  goiit4  de  coeur,  as  he  said  to  himself,  began 
to  interfere  with  the  pleasant  and  decent  current  of 
his  life  r  without  any  cause  she  grew  jealous  of  him, 
demanded  attentions  from  him,  found  fault  with  every 
thing,  and  caused  him  disagreeable  and  stormy  scenes. 

At  first  Ivdn  Ilyitch  hoped  to  free  himself  from  this 
unpleasant  state  of  things  by  the  same  easy-going  and 
respectable  acceptation  of  life  which  had  helped  him  in 
da3's  gone  by.  He  tried  to  ignore  his  wife's  disposi- 
tion, and  continued  to  live  as  before  in  an  easy  and 
pleasant  way.     He  invited  his  friends,  he  gave  card- 


22  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH. 

parties,  he  attempted  to  make  his  visits  to  the  chib  or 
to  friends  ;  but  his  wife  began  one  time  to  abuse  him 
with  rough  and  energetic  language,  and  continued 
l^ersisteutly  to  scold  him  each  time  that  he  failed  to 
fulfil  her  demands,  having  evidently  made  up  her  mind 
not  to  cease  berating  him  until  he  was  completely  sub- 
jected to  her  authority —  in  other  words,  until  he  would 
sta}'  at  home,  and  be  just  as  deeply  in  the  dumps  as 
she  herself,  —  a  thing  which  Ivdn  Ilyitch  dreaded  above 
all. 

He  learned  that  married  life,  at  least  so  far  as  his 
wife  was  concerned,  did  not  always  add  to  the  pleas- 
antness and  decency  of  existence,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, disturbed  it,  and  that,  therefore,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  protect  himself  from  such  interference.  And 
Ivdn  Ilyitch  tried  to  devise  means  to  this  end.  His 
official  duties  were  the  only  thing  that  had  an  imposing 
effect  upon  Praskovia  Feodorovna  ;  and  Ivdn  Iljitch,  by 
means  of  his  office,  and  the  duties  arising  from  it,  be- 
gan the  struggle  with  his  wife,  for  the  defence  of  his 
independent  life. 

When  the  child  was  born,  and  in  consequence  of  the 
various  attempts  and  failures  to  have  it  property 
nursed,  and  the  illnesses,  real  and  imaginary,  of  both 
mother  and  child,  wherein  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  sympathy  was 
demanded,  but  which  were  absolutely  foreign  to  him, 
the  necessity  for  him  to  secure  a  life  outside  of  his 
family  became  still  more  imperative. 

According  as  his  wife  grew  more  irritable  and  exact- 
ing, so  IvAn  Ilyitch  transferred  the  centre  of  his  life's 
burdens  more  and  more  into  his  office.  He  began  to 
love  his  office  more  and  more,  and  became  more  ambi- 
tious than  he  had  ever  been. 

Very  soon,  not  longer  than  a  year  after  his  marriage, 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  23 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  learned  that  a  family  life,  while  affording 
certain  advantages,  was  in  reality  a  very  complicated 
and  burdensome  thing,  in  relation  to  which,  if  one 
would  fulfil  his  duty,  that  is,  to  lead  a  respectable  life 
approved  by  society,  one  must  work  out  a  certain  sys- 
tem, just  as  in  public  office. 

And  such  a  system  Ivdn  Ilyitch  secured  in  his  matri- 
monial life.  He  demanded  of  family  life  only  such 
conveniences  in  the  way  of  home-dinners,  a  house- 
keeper, a  bed,  as  it  could  furnish  him,  and,  above  all, 
that  respectability  in  external  forms  which  was  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  opinions  of  society.  As  for  the  rest, 
he  was  anxious  for  pleasant  amenities  ;  and  if  he  found 
them,  he  was  very  grateful.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he 
met  with  opposition  and  complaint,  then  he  immedi- 
ately took  refuge  in  the  far-off  world  of  his  official 
duties,  which  alone  offered  him  delight. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  was  regarded  as  an  excellent  magistrate, 
and  at  the  end  of  three  years  he  was  appointed  deputy- 
prokurdr.  His  new  functions,  their  importance,  the 
power  vested  in  him  of  arresting  and  imprisoning  any 
one  soever,  the  publicity  of  his  speeches,  his  success 
obtained  in  this  field,  —  all  this  still  more  attached  him 
to  the  service. 

Children  came :  his  wife  grew  constantly  more  im- 
table  and  ill-tempered ;  but  the  regulation  which  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  maintained  toward  family  life,  made  him  almost 
proof  against  her  temper. 

After  seven  years  of  service  in  one  city,  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
was  promoted  to  the  office  of  prokurdr  in  another 
government.  They  changed  their  residence  :  they  had 
small  means,  and  the  place  to  which  they  moved  did 
not  suit  his  wife.  Although  his  salary  was  larger  than 
before,  yet  living  was  more  expensive  ;  moreover,  two 


24  TFIE  DEATH   OF  IVAN   ILYITCH. 

of  their  children  died  :  and  thus  family  life  became  still 
more  distasteful  to  Ivan  llyitch. 

Praskovia  Feodorovna  blamed  her  husband  for  all 
the  misfortunes  that  came  upon  them  in  their  new  place 
of  abode.  The  majority,  of  the  subjects  of  conversa- 
tion between  husband  and  wife,  especially  the  educa- 
tion of  their  children,  led  to  questions  which  were 
productive  of  quarrels,  so  that  quarrels  were  always 
ready  to  break  out.  Only  at  rare  intervals  came  those 
periods  of  affection  which  distinguish  married  life,  but 
they  were  not  of  long  duration.  These  were  little 
islands  in  which  they  rested  for  a  time  ;  but  then  again 
they  pushed  out  into  the  sea  of  secret  animosity,  which 
expressed  itself  by  driving  them  farther  and  farther 
apart. 

This  alienation  might  have  irritated  Ivdn  llyitch,  if 
he  had  not  considered  that  it  was  inevitable  ;  but  now 
he  began  to  look  upon  this  situation  not  merely  as  nor- 
mal, but  even  as  a  way  of  manifesting  his  activity  in 
the  family.  The  wa}-  consisted  in  withdrawing  as  far 
as  possible  from  these  unpleasantnesses,  or  of  giving 
them  a  character  of  innocence  and  respectability ;  and 
he  attained  this  end  by  spending  less  and  less  time  with 
his  family ;  but  when  he  was  to  do  so,  then  he  endeav- 
ored to  secure  his  situation  by  the  presence  of  stran- 
gers. 

But  Ivan  Ilyiteh's  chief  resource  was  his  office.  In 
the  world  of  his  duties  was  concentrated  all  his  inter- 
est in  life.  And  this  interest  wholly  absorbed  him. 
The  consciousness  of  his  power  of  ruining  an}'  one 
whom  he  might  wish  to  ruin  ;  the  importance  of  his 
position  manifested  outwardly  when  he  came  into  court, 
or  met  his  subordinates  ;  his  success  with  superiors  and 
subordinates  ;  and,  above  all,  his  skill  in  the  conduct  of 


THE   DEATH   OF   IVAN   ILYITCH.  25 

affairs,  —  and  he  was  perfectly  conscious  of  it,  —  all  this 
delighted  him,  and  together  with  conversations  with  his 
colleagues,  dinners  and  whist,  filled  all  his  life.  Thus, 
for  the  most  part,  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  life  continued  to  flow 
in  its  even  tenor  as  he  considered  that  it  ought  to  flow, 
—  pleasantly  and  respectably. 

Thus  he  lived  seven  years  longer.  His  eldest  daugh- 
ter was  already  sixteen  years  old ;  still  another  little 
child  died ;  and  there  remained  a  lad,  a  gimnazist,  the 
object  of  their  wrangling.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  wanted  to  send 
him  to  the  law  school ;  but  Praskovia,  out  of  spite 
toward  him,  selected  the  gymnasium.  The  daughter 
studied  at  home,  and  made  good  progress  :  the  lad  also 
was  not  at  all  backward  in  his  studies. 


26  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH, 


ni. 

Thus  seventeen  years  of  Ivdn  Ily itch's  hie  passed 
-since  the  time  of  his  marriage.  He  was  already  an 
old  prokurdr^  having  declined  several  transfers,  in  the 
hope  of  a  still  more  desirable  place,  when  there  occurred 
unexpectedly  an  unpleasant  turn  of  affairs  which  was 
quite  disturbing  to  his  peaceful  life.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  was 
hoping  for  the  position  of  president^  in  a  university 
city  ;  but  Hoppe  got  in  ahead  of  him,  and  obtained  the 
place.  IvAn  Ilyitch  became  irritated,  began  to  make 
recriminations,  got  into  a  quarrel  with  him  and  his  ne«:t 
superior,  who  had  showed  signs  of  coolness,  and  in  the 
subsequent  appointments  he  was  set  aside. 

This  was  in  1880.  This  year  was  the  most  trying  of 
Ivdn  Ilyitch's  life.  It  happened,  on  the  one  hand,  that 
his  salary  did  not  meet  his  expenses ;  on  the  other, 
that  he  was  forgotten  by  all,  and  that  what  seemed  to 
him  a  great,  an  atrocious  injustice  toward  himself,  was 
regarded  by  others  as  a  perfectly  natural  thing.  Even 
his  father  did  not  think  it  his  duty  to  come  to  his  aid. 
He  felt~that  he  was  abandoned  by  all  his  friends,  who 
considered  that  his  position,  Worth  thirty -five  hundred 
rubles  a  year,  was  ver}^  normal  and  even  fortunate.  He 
alone  knew,  that  with  the  consciousness  of  the  injustice 
which  had  been  done  him,  and  with  his  wife's  everlast- 
ing rasping,  and  with  the  debts  which  began  to  accu- 
mulate, now  that  he  lived  beyond  his  means  —  he  alone 
knew  that  his  situation  was  far  from  normal. 

1  Predeyed^tel. 


THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN    ILYITCH.  27 

The  summer  of  that  year,  m  order  to  lighten  his  ex- 
penses, he  took  leave  of  absence,  and  went  with  his 
wife  to  spend  the  summer  in  the  country  at  Ptaskovia 
Feodorovna's  brother's. 

In  the  country,  relieved  of  his  otticial  duties,  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  for  the  first  time  felt  not  only  irksomeness,  but 
insupportable  anguish ;  and  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
it  was  impossible  to  live  in  such  a  way,  and  that  he 
must  take  immediate  and  decisive  steps,  no  matter 
what  they  were. 

After  a  long,  sleepless  night,  which  he  spent  walking 
up  and  down  the  terrace,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  decided  to  go  to 
Petersburg  to  bestir  himself,  and  to  get  transferred 
into  another  ministry,  so  as  to  punish  them  who  had  not 
known  how  to  appreciate  him. 

On  the  next  day,  notwithstanding  all  the  protests  of 
his  wife  and  brother-in-law,  he  started  for  Petersburg. 

He  wanted  only  one  thing,  — to  obtain  a  place  worth 
five  thousand  rubles  a  year.  He  would  not  stipulate 
for  any  special  ministry,  any  special  direction,  any 
form  of  activity.  All  that  he  needed  was  a  place,  —  a 
place  with  a  salary  of  five  thousand  rubles,  in  the 
administration,  in  the  banks,  on  the  railroads,  in  the 
institutions  of  the  Empress  IMaria,  even  in  the  custom 
service  ;  but  the  sole  condition  was  the  five-thousand 
salary,  the  sole  condition  to  be  relieved  from  the  min- 
istry, where  they  did  not  know  how  to  appreciate  him. 

And  lo !  this  trip  of  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  met  with  aston- 
ishing, unexpected  success..  At  Kursk  an  acquaint- 
ance of  his,  F.  S,  Jlyin,  came  into  the  first-class  car, 
and  informed  him  of  a  telegram  just  received  by  the 
governor  of  Kursk  to  the  effect  that  a  change  was 
about  to  be  made  in  the  ministry  :  in  Piotr  Ivanovitch's 
place  would  be  appointed  Ivdn  Semyonovitch. 


28  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

This  probable  change,  over  and  above  its  significance 
for  Russia,  had  a  special  significance  for  Ivdn  Ilyitch, 
from  the  fact  that  by  bringing  up  a  new  oflScial  Piotr 
Ivanovitch,  and  probably  his  friend  Zakhdr  Ivdnovitch, 
it  was  in  the  highest  degree  favorable  for  Ivdn  Ilyitch. 
Zakhdr  Ivanovitch  was  a  colleague  and  friend  of  Ivdn 
Ilyitch. 

In  Moscow  the  tidings  were  confirmed.  And  when 
he  reached  Petersburg,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  sought  out  Zakhdr 
Ivdnovitch,  and  obtained  the  promise  of  a  sure  position 
in  his  old  ministry,  —  that  of  justice. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  he  telegraphed  his  wife,  — 

"  Zakhdr  Miller's  place;  at  the  first  report^  shall  get 
nomination.' ' 

Ivan  Ilyitch,  thanks  to  this  change  of  administration, 
suddenly  obtained  in  his  old  ministry  such  an  appoint- 
ment as  put  him  two  grades  above  his  colleagues,  —  five 
thousand  salary,  and  thirty-five  hundred  for  travelling 
expenses. 

All  his  grievances  against  his  former  rivals  and 
against  all  the  ministry  were  forgotten,  and  Ivan 
Ilyitch  was  entirely  happy. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  returned  to  the  country,  jocund,  con- 
tented, as  he  had  not  been  for  a  long  time.  Praskovia 
Feodorovna  also  brightened  up,  and  peace  was  re-estab- 
lished between  them.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  related  how  he  was 
esteemed  by  every  one  in  Petersburg ;  how  all  those 
who  had  been  his  enemies  were  covered  with  shame, 
and  now  fawned  upon  him  ;  how  they  envied  him  his 
position,  and  especially  how  dearly  every  one  in  Peters- 
burg loved  him. 

Praskovia  Feodorovna  listened  to  this,  and  made 
believe  that  she  believed  it,  and  did  not  contradict  him 
in  any  thing,  but  only  made  plans  for  the  arrangement 


THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCIL  29 

of  their  new  life  in  the  cit}'  where  they  were  going. 
And  Ivdn  Ilyitch  had  the  joy  of  seeing  that  these 
plans  were  his  plans,  that  they  coincided,  and  that  his 
life,  interrupted  though  it  had  been,  was  now  about 
to  regain  its  own  character  of  festive  pleasure  and 
decency. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  came  for  only  a  short  visit.  On  the 
22d  of  September  he  was  obliged  to  assume  his  duties ; 
and,  moreover,  he  needed  time  to  get  established  in 
his  new  place,  to  transport  all  his  possessions  from 
the  province,  to  buy  new  things,  to  give  orders  for 
still  more,  —  in  a  word,  to  install  himself  as  it  seemed 
proper  to  his  mind,  and  pretty  nearly  as  it  seemed 
proper  to  Praskovia  Feodorovna's  ideas. 

And  now,  when  all  was  ordered  so  happily,  and  when 
he  and  his  wife  were  in  accord,  and,  above  all,  lived 
together  but  a  small  portion  of  the  time,  the}^  became 
better  friends  than  they  had  been  since  the  first  years 
of  their  married  life. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  at  first  thought  of  taking  his  family 
with  him  immediately ;  but  the  insistence  of  his  sister- 
and  brother-in-law,  who  suddenly  manifested  an  ex- 
traordinary friendliness  and  brotherly  love  for  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  and  his  family,  induced  him  to  depart  alone. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  took  his  departure  ;  and  the  jocund  dis- 
position of  his  mind,  arising  from  his  success  and  his 
reconciliation  with  his  wife,  the  one  consequent  upon 
the  other,  did  not  for  a  moment  leave  him.  ♦ 

He  found  admirable  apartments,  exactly  coinciding 
with  the  dreams  of  husband  and  wife,  — spacious,  lofty 
reception-rooms  in  the  old  style ;  convenient,  graricl- 
lotious  library ;  chambers  for  his  wife  and  daughter ; 
study-room  for  his  son,  —  all  as  though  expressly  de- 
signed for  them.     Ivdn  Ilyitch  himself  took  charge  of 


30  THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYJTCH. 

the  arrangements.  He  selected  the  wall-papers ;  he 
bought  the  furniture,  mostly  antique,  to  which  he 
attributed  a  specially  comme-il-faut-ish  style  ;  hangings 
and  all  took  form,  and  took  form  and  approached  that 
ideal  which  he  had  established  in  his  conception. 

When  his  arrangements  were  half  completed,  they 
surpassed  his  expectations.  He  perceived  what  a 
comme-il-faut-ish,  exquisite,  and  far  from  common- 
place, character  all  would  hav^e  when  completed.  When 
he  lay  down  to  sleep,  he  imagined  his  drawing-room 
as  it  would  be.  As  he  looked  about  his  parlor, 
still  unfinished,  he  nevertheless  saw  the  fireplace,  the 
screen,  the  little  etag^re,  and  those  easy-chairs  scattered 
here  and  there,  those  plates  and  saucers  on  the  walls, 
and  the  bronzes,  just  as  they  would  be  when  all  was  in 
place. 

He  was  delighted  with  the  thought  of  how  he  should 
astonish  Pasha  (Praskovia)  and  Lizanka,  who  also  had 
such  good  taste  in  these  things.  '  They  never  would 
look  for  this.  Especially  that  he  would  have  the 
thought  of  going  and  buying  at  such  a  low  price  these 
old  things  that  give  the  whole  an  extraordinary  charac- 
ter of  gentility.' 

In  his  letters  he  purposely  represented  every  thing 
worse  than  it  really  was  —  so  as  to  surprise  them.  All 
this  so  occupied  him,  that  even  his  new  duties,  much  as 
he  enjoyed  them,  were  not  so  absorbing  as  he  expected. 
Even  while  court  was  in  session,  he  had  his  moments 
of  abstraction :  he  was  cogitating  as  to  what  sort  of 
cornices  he  should  have  for  his  curtains,  —  straight  or 
matched.  He  was  so  interested  in  this,  that  often  he 
himself  took  hold,  re-arranged  the  furniture,  and  even 
rehung  the  curtains  himself. 

One  time,  when  he  was  climbing  on  a  pair  of  steps, 


THE  LEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  31 

SO  as  to  explain  to  a  dull- minded  upholsterer  how  he 
wished  a  drapery  to  be  arranged,  he  slipped  and  fell ; 
but  being  a  strong,  dexterous  man,  he  saved  himself. 
He  only  hit  his  side  on  the  edge  of  the  frame.  He 
received  a  bruise,  but  it  quickly  passed  away.  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  all  this  time  felt  perfectly  happy  and  well.  He 
wrote,  '^I  feel  as  though  I  were  fifteen  years  younger." 

He  expected  to  finish  in  September,  but  circum- 
stances delayed  it  till  the  middle  of  October.  But  it 
was  all  admirable :  not  only  he  himself  said  so,  but 
all  who  saw  it  said  the  same. 

In  reality,  it  was  exactly  what  is  customary  among 
those  people  who  are  not  very  rich,  but  who  like  to  ape 
the  rich,  and  therefore  only  resemble  each  other,  —  silken 
fabrics,  mahogany,  flowers,  carpets,  and  bronzes,  dark 
or  shining,  all  that  wliich  all  people  of  a  certain  class 
affect,  so  as  to  be  comparable  to  all  people  of  a  certain 
class.  And  in  his  case,  there  was  a  greater  resem- 
blance, so  that  it  was  impossible  to  single  out  any 
thing  for  attention ;  but  still,  this  to  him  was  some- 
thing extraordinary. 

When  he  met  his  family  at  the  railway  station,  he 
took  them  to  their  apartments,  freshly  put  in  order  for 
them ',  and  the  lackey,  in  a  white  necktie,  opened  the 
door  into  the  vestibule,  ornamented  with  flowers  ;  and 
then  they  went  into  the  parlor,  the  library,  and  oh'ed 
and  ah'ed  with  delight :  and  he  was  very  happy ;  he 
showed  them  every  thing,  drank  in  their  praises,  and 
shone  with  satisfaction.  On  that  very  evening  at  tea, 
when  Praskovia  Feodorovna  asked  him,  among  other 
things,  how  he  fell,  he  laughed,  and  illustrated  in 
pantomime  how  he  went  head  over  heels,  and  scared 
the  upholsterer.  ''I'm  not  a  gymnast  for  nothing. 
Another  man  would  have  killed  himself,   but  I   just 


32  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

struck  myself  here  a  little ;  when  you  touch  it,  it 
hurts ;  but  it's  already  wearing  off  —  it's  a  mere 
bruise." 

And  they  began  to  live  in  the  new  domicile,  in 
which,  as  always,  after  one  has  become  fairly  estab- 
lished, it  was  discovered  that  there  was  just  one 
room  too  few;  and  with  their  new  means,  which,  as 
always,  lacked  a  little  of  being  sufficient ;  about  five 
hundred  rubles  additional,  and  it  would  have  been 
well. 

All  went  extraordinarily  well  at  first,  while  still 
their  arrangements  were  not  wholly  regulated,  and 
there  was  still  much  to  do,  —  buying  this  thing,  giving 
orders  for  that,  re-arranging,  mending.  Although 
there  were  occasional  disagreements  between  husband 
and  wife,  yet  both  were  so  satisfied,  and  they  had  so 
many  occupations,  that  no  serious  quarrel  resulted. 
Still,  when  there  was  nothing  left  to  arrange,  they 
became  a  trifle  bored,  and  felt  that  something  was 
lacking ;  but  now  the}^  began  to  form  new  acquaint- 
ances, new  habits,  and  their  lives  became  full. 

Iv^n  Ilyitch  spent  the  morning  at  court,  but  returned 
home  to  dinner  ;  and  at  first  he  was  in  excellent  humor, 
although  sometimes  he  was  a  little  vexed  by  something 
or  other  in  the  household  management.  (Any  kind  of 
spot  on  the  table-cloth,  on  the  draperies,  any  break  in 
the  curtain-cords,  irritated  him.  He  had  taken  so  much 
pains  in  getting  things  in  order,  that  any  kind  of  harm 
befalling  was  painful  to  him.) 

But,  on  the  whole,  Iv4n  Ilyitch's  life  ran  on,  as  in  his 
opinion  life  ought  to  run,  smoothly,  pleasantly,  and 
decently. 

He  arose  at  nine  o'clock,  drank  his  coffee,  read  the 
paper,  then  donned  his  uniform,  and  went  down  to 


THE   DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  33 

court.  There  he  instantly  got  himself  into  the  harness 
to  which  he  had  been  so  long  accustomed,  —  petitioners, 
inquiries  at  the  chancery,  the  chancery  itself,  sessions 
public  and  administrative.  In  all  this,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  devise  means  to  exclude  all  those  external 
concerns  of  life  which  forever  tend  to  trespass  upon 
the  accuracy  of  conducting  official  duties ;  it  was  ne- 
cessary that  he  should  tolerate  no  relations  with  people 
except  upon  an  official  basis  ;  and  the  cause  for  such 
relations  must  be  official,  and  the  relations  themselves 
must  be  only  official. 

For  example,  a  man  comes,  and  wants  to  know  some- 
thing or  other.  Ivan  Ilyitch,  as  a  man  apart  from  his 
office,  cannot  have  any  relations  with  this  man  ;  but  if 
the  relationship  of  this  man  to  the  magistrate  is  such 
that  it  can  be  expressed  on  letterhead  paper,  then,  with- 
in the  limits  of  these  relations,  Ivan  Ilyitch  would  do 
all,  absolutely  all,  in  his  power,  and  at  the  same  time 
preserve  the  semblance  of  affable,  philanthropical  rela- 
tions, —  in  other  words,  of  politeness.  The  point  where 
his  official  life  and  his  private  life  joined  was  very 
strictly  drawn.  IvAn  Ilyitch  had  a  high  degree  of  skill 
in  separating  the  official  side  from  the  other  without 
confounding  them ;  and  his  long  practice  and  talent 
gave  him  &\\q\\  finesse^  that  he  sometimes,  as  a  virtuoso, 
allowed  himself,  by  way  of  a  jest,  to  confound  the 
humanitarian  and  his  official  relations. 

This  act  in  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  case  was  played,  not  only 
smootllTy,  pleasantly,  and  decently,  but  also  in  a  vir- 
tuoso manner.  During  the  intervals,  he  smoked,  drank 
tea,  talked  a  little  about  politics,  a  little  about  affairs 
in  general,  a  little  about  cards,  and  more  than  all  about 
appointments  ;  and  when  weary,  but  still  conscious  of 
his  virtuosity,  as  of  one  who  has  well  played  his  part, 


o4  THE  DEATH  OF   IVAN  ILYITCH. 

like  one  of  the  first  violins  of  an  orchestra,  he  went 
home. 

At  home  the  mother  and  daughter  had  been  receiv- 
ing or  making  calls :  the  son  was  at  the  gymnasium, 
preparing  his  lessons  with  tutors  ;  and  he  learned  accu- 
rately whatever  was  taught  him  in  the  gymnasium.  All 
was  excellent. 

After  dinner,  unless  he  had  guests,  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
sometimes  read  a  book  which  was  being  talked  about ; 
and  during  the  evening  he  sat  down  to  his  work,  —  that 
is,  read  papers,  consulted  the  laws,  compared  deposi- 
tions, and  applied  the  law  to  them. 

This  was  neither  tedious  nor  inspiriting.  It  was 
tedious  when  he  had  the  chance  to  play  viiit ;  but  if 
there  was  no  vint^  then  it  was  far  better  than  to  sit 
alone  or  with  his  wife. 

Very  delightful  to  Ivan  Ilyitch  were  the  little  dinners 
to  which  he  invited  ladies  and  gentlemen  holding  high 
positions  in  society  ;  and  such  entertainments  were  like 
the  entertainments  of  people  of  the  same  class,  just  as 
his  parlor  was  like  all  parlors. 

One  evening  they  even  had  a  party ;  they  danced, 
and  Ivan  Ilyitch  felt  gay,  and  all  was  good  ;  only  a 
great  quarrel  arose  between  husband  and  wife  about 
the  patties  and  sweetmeats.  Praskovia  Feodorovna  had 
her  ideas  about  them  ;  but  Ivan  Ilyitch  went  to  the  ex-^ 
pense  of  getting  them  all  of  an  expensive  confectioner, 
and  he  got  a  great  quantity  of  patties  ;  and  the  quarrel 
was  because  there  was  an  extra  quantity,  and  the  con- 
fectioner's bill  amounted  to  forty-five  rubles. 

The  quarrel  was  sharp  and  disagreeable,  inasmuch 
as  Praskovia  Feodorovna  called  him  "Fool!  Pig- 
head  !  "  And  he,  putting  his  hands  to  his  head  in  his 
vexation,  muttered  something  about  divorce. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  35 

Bat  the  party  itself  was  gay.  The  very  best  society 
were  present;  and  Ivdn  Ilyitch  danced  with  "the  Prin- 
cess Trufonova,  the  sister  of  the  well-known  founder 
of  the  society  called  "  Unesi  tui  mayd  g6re.''  ^ 

Ivdn  Ilyitch' s  official  pleasures  were  the  pleasures 
of  self-love ;  his  pleasures  i»  society  were  pleasures 
of  vanity ;  but  his  real  pleasures  were  the  pleasures  of 
playing  vint.  He  confessed,  that  after  all,  after  any 
disagreeable  event  whatsoever  that  might  befall  his  life, 
the  pleasure  which,  like  a  candle,  glowed  brighter  than 
all  others,  was  that  of  sitting  down  —  four  good  play- 
ers, and  partners  who  did  not  shout  —  to  a  game  of 
vint  (and  always  four,  for  it  is  very  bad  form  to  have 
five,  even  though  you  say,  "  I  like  it  very  much"), 
and  have  a  reasonable,  serious  game  (when  the  cards 
run  well),  and  then  to  eat  a  little  supper,  and  drink  a 
glass  of  wine.  And  Ivdn  Ilyitch  used  to  go  to  sleep, 
especially  after  a  game  of  vint^  when  he  had  won  a 
little  something  (a  large  sum  is  disagreeable),  and  feel 
particularly  happy  in  his  mind. 

Thus  they  lived.  The  circle  of  their  friends  con- 
sisted of  the  very  best  society :  men  of  high  position 
visited  them,  and  young  people  came. 

As  far  as  their  views  upon  the  circle  of  their  acquaint- 
ance were  concerned,  husband,  wife,  and  daughter  were 
perfectly  unanimous.  And  tacitly  they  each  in  the 
same  way  pushed  aside,  and  rid  themselves  of,  certain 
friends  and  relatives,  — the  undesirable  kind,  who  came 
fawning  around  them  in  their  parlor  decorated  with 
Japanese  plates  on  the  wall.  Very  soon  these  undesir- 
able friends  ceased  to  flutter  around  them,  and  the 
Golovins  had  only  the  very  best  societ)\ 

Young   men   were   attracted   to   Lizanka ;    and  the 

1  •'  Take  away  my  BOiiO.v." 


36  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

examining  magistrate,  Petrishcbef,  the  son  of  Dmitri 
Ivdnovitch  Petrishcbef,  and  the  sole  heir  to  his  wealth, 
began  to  flutter  around  Liza  so  assiduously,  that  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  already  asked  Praskovia  Feodorovna  whether  it 
would  not  be  a  good  plan  to  take  a  troika-ride  together, 
or  arrange  some  private  theatricals. 

Thus  they  lived.     And  thus  all  went  along  in  its 
even  course,  and  all  was  very  good. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH,  37 


IV. 


All  were  in  good  health.  It  was  impossible  to  make 
ill  health  out  of  the  fact  that  Iv^n  II3  itch  sometimes 
complained  of.  a  strange  taste  in  his  mouth  and  an  un- 
easiness in  the  left  side  of  his  abdomen. 

But  the  fact  remained  that  this  unpleasant  feeling 
kept  growing  more  and  more  manifest :  it  did  not  as 
yet  become  painful,  but  it  showed  itself  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  constant  dull  weight  in  his  side,  and  in 
an  irritable  temper.  This  irritability,  constantly  in- 
creasing and  increasing,  began  to  disturb  the  pleasant, 
easy-going,  decent  life  that  had  been  characteristic  of 
the  Goloviu  family.  The  husband  and  wife  began  to 
quarrel  more  and  more  frequently ;  and  before  long 
their  easy,  pleasant  relations  were  broken  up,  and  even 
the  decen^^y  was  maintained  under  difficulties. 

Scenes  once  more  became  very  frequent.  Once  more, 
but  quite  infrequently,  the  little  islands  appeared,  on 
which  husband  and  wife  could  meet  without  an  explo- 
sion. And  Praskovia  now  said,  not  without  justifica- 
tion, that  her  husband  had  a  very  trying  nature.  With 
her  peculiar  tendency  to  exaggeration,  she  declared  that 
he  had  always  had  such  a  terrible  disposition,  that  she 
deserved  the  profoundest  pity  for  having  endured  this 
for  twenty  years. 

It  was  indeed  true  that  now  he  was  the  one  that  be- 
gan the  quarrels.  His  querulousness  began  always 
before  dinner,  and  often,  indeed,  just  as  they  sat  down 


38  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

to  eat  the  soup.  Sometimes  he  noticed  that  there  was 
some  uick  in  the  dish  ;  sometimes  the  food  did  not  suit 
him ;  now  his  son  rested  his  elbows  on  the  table  ;  now 
it  was  the  way  his  daughter  dressed  her  hair.  And  he 
blamed  Praskovia  Feodorovna  for  every  thing.  At 
first  Praskovia  Feodorovna  answered  in  kind,  and  said 
disagreeable  things  to  him ;  but  twice,  just  as  dinner 
was  beginning,  he  broke  out  into  such  a  fury  that  she 
perceived  this  to  be  an  unhealthy  state,  which  proceeded 
from  the  assimilation  of  food  ;  and  she  held  her  peace  ; 
she  did  not  reply,  and  merely  hastened  to  finish  dinner. 

Praskovia  Feodorovna  regarded  her  meekness  as  a 
great  merit.  As  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  her 
husband  had  a  horrible  disposition,  and  was  making 
her  life  wretched,  she  began  to  pity  herself.  And  the 
more  she  pitied  herself,  the  more  she  detested  her 
husband.  She  began  to  wish  that  he  would  die ;  but 
she  could  not  quite  wish  it,  because  then  they  would 
not  have  his  salary  any  more.  And  this  actually  exas- 
perated her  still  more  against  him.  She  regarded  her- 
self as  terribly  unhappy,  from  the  very  fact  that  his 
death  could  not  relieve  her :  and  she  grew  bitter,  but 
concealed  it ;  and  this  concealed  bitterness  strengthened 
her  hatred  of  him. 

After  one  scene  in  which  IvJin  Ilyitch  was  particu- 
larly unjust,  and  which  he  explained  on  the  ground 
that  his  irritability  was  the  result  of  not  being  well, 
she  told  him,  that,  if  he  was  ill,  then  he  ought  to  take 
some  medicine  ;  and  she  begged  him  to  go  to  a  famous 
physician. 

He  went.  Every  thing  was  as  he  expected :  every 
thing  was  done  according  to  the  usual  way,  —  the 
having  to  wait;  and  the  pompous,  doctorial  air  of 
importance,  so  familiar  to  him,  the  same  as  he  himself 


THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  39 

assumed  in  court ;  and  the  tapping  and  the  ausculta- 
tion ;  and  the  leading  questions  requiring  answers  pre- 
determined, and  apparently  not  heard  ;  and  the  look  of 
superlative  wisdom  which  seemed  to  say,  "You,  now, 
just  trust  yourself  to  us,  and  we  will  do  every  thing; 
we  understand  without  fail  how  to  manage  ;  every  thing 
is  done  in  the  same  way  for  any  man." 

Every  thing  was  just  exactly  as  in  court.  The  airs 
that  he  put  on  in  court  for  the  benefit  of  those  brought 
before  him,  the  same  were  assumed  by  the  famous 
doctor  for  his  benefit. 

The  doctor  said,  "  Such  and  such  a  thing  ^  shows 
that  you  have  such  and  such  a  thing  in  you ;  but  if 
this  is  not  confirmed  according  to  the  investigations  of 
such  and  such  a  man,  then  you  must  suppose  such  and 
such  a  thing.  Now,  if  we  suppose  such  and  such  a 
thing,  then  "  —  and  so  on. 

P'or  Iv^n  Ilyitch,  only  one  question  was  momentous : 
Was  his  case  dangerous,  or  not  ?  But  the  doctor  ignored 
this  inconvenient  question.  From  a  doctor's  point  of 
view,  this  question  was  idle,  and  did  not  deserve 
consideration  :  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  weigh  prob- 
abilities, —  floating  kidney,  chronic  catarrh,  disease  of 
the  blind  intestine. 

There  was  no  question  of  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  life,  but 
there  was  a  dispute  between  the  kidney  disease  and 
bowel  trouble  ;  and  this  dispute,  the  doctor,  in  Ivdn 
Ilyitch's  presence,  settled  in  the  most  brilliant  manner 
in  favor  of  the  bowel  trouble,  making  a  reserve  in  case 
an  analysis  of  the  urine  should  give  new  results,  and 
then  the  case  would  have  to  be  examined  anew. 

All  this  was  exactly  what  Ivan  Ilyitch  himself  had 
done  a  thousand  times  in  the  same  brilliant  manner  for 

1  To-to. 


40  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

the  benefit  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  Thus,  even  more 
brilliantly,  the  doctor  made  his  r4sumd,  and,  with  an 
air  of  still  more  joyful  triumph,  he  gazed  down  upon 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar  from  over  his  spectacles.  From 
the  doctor's  resum^,  Ivan  Ilyitch  came  to  the  conclusion, 
that,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  it  was  bad ;  but  as 
far  as  the  doctor,  and  perhaps  the  rest  of  the  world, 
was  concerned,  it  made  no  difference ;  but  for  him  it 
was  bad ! 

And  this  conclusion  struck  Iv^n  Ilyitch  with  a  painful 
shock,  causing  in  him  a  feeling  of  painful  pity  for  him- 
self, and  of  painful  wrath  against  this  physician  who 
showed  such  indifference  to  such  a  vital  question. 

But  he  said  nothing:  then  he  got  up,  laid  some 
money  on  the  table,  and,  with  a  sigh,  said,  — 

'^  Evidently  we  sick  men  often  ask  foolish  questions 
of  you,"  said  he  ;  *'  but,  in  general,  is  this  trouble 
serious,  or  not  ?  " 

The  doctor  gave  him  a  severe  glance  with  one  eye, 
through  the  spectacles,  as  though  saying,  — 

''  Prisoner  at  the  bar,  if  you  do  not  confine  yourself 
to  the  limits  of  the  questions  put  before  you,  I  shall  be 
constrained  to  take  measures  for  having  you  put  out  of 
the  audience-chamber." 

''  I  have  already  told  you  what  I  considered  neces- 
sary- and  suitable,"  said  the  doctor :  "  a  further  exam- 
ination will  complete  the  diagnosis ;  "  and  the  doctor 
bowed  him  out. 

Iv^n  Ilyitch  went  out  slowly,  lugubriously  took  his 
seat  in  his  sledge,  and  drove  home.  All  the  way  he 
kept  repeating  all  that  the  doctor  had  said,  endeavoring 
to  translate  all  those  involved  scientific  phrases  into 
simple  language,  and  find  in  them  an  answer  to  the 
question,  "  Is  it  a  serious,  very  serious,  case  for  me, 


THE  DEATH   OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  41 

or  is  it  a  mere  nothing  ?  ' '  And  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  sense  of  all  the  doctor's  words  indicated  a  very 
serious  case.  The  aspect  of  every  thing  in  the  streets 
was  gloomy.  The  izvoshchiks  were  gloomy ;  gloomy 
the  houses,  the  pedestrians ;  the  shops  were  gloomy. 
This  pain,  this  obscure,  dull  pain,  which  did  not  leave 
him  for  a  second,  seemed  to  him,  when  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  doctor's  ambiguous  remarks,  to  gather 
a  new  and  more  serious  significance.  Ivdn  Ilyitch, 
with  a  new  sense  of  depression,  now  took  constant 
heed  of  it. 

He  reached  home,  and  began  to  tell  his  wife.  His 
wife  listened:  but  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his 
account,  his  daughter  came  in  with  her  hat  on ;  she 
was  ready  to  go  out  with  her  mother.  She  sat  down 
with  evident  disrelish  to  listen  to  this  wearisome  tale, 
but  she  was  not  detained  long :  her  mother  did  not 
hear  him  out. 

''  Well,"  said  she,  ''  I  am  very  glad;  for  now  you 
will  look  out,  and  take  your  medicine  properly.  Give 
me  the  prescription,  and  I  will  send  Gerasim  to  the 
apothecary's." 

And  she  went  to  get  dressed. 

He  could  not  get  a  long  breath  all  the  time  that  she 
was  in  the  room,  and  he  sighed  heavily  when  she  went 
out. 

''  Well,"  ^  said  he,  '*  perhaps  it's  a  mere  nothing, 
after  all." 

He  began  to  take  his  medicine,  and  to  follow  the 
doctor's  prescriptions,  which  were  somewhat  modified 
after  the  urine  had  been  analyzed.  But  it  happened 
exactly  as  the  result  of  the  analysis,  and  the  fact  that 
he  had  to  follow  a  new  regime^  that  a  certain  amount 

1  Nix  chtozh. 


42  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

of  confusion  arose.  It  was  impossible  to  blame  the 
doctor ;  but  the  fact  was,  the  doctor's  directions  were 
not  carried  out.  Either  he  had  forgotten  or  neglected 
something,  or  he  had  concealed  something  from  him. 

But  Ivdn  Ilyitch  nevertheless  began  pretty  faithfully 
to  follow  the  doctor's  prescriptions,  and  in  this  way 
for  the  first  part  of  the  time  he  found  consolation. 

Ivdn  Ily itch's  principal  occupation,  after  he  went  to 
consult  the  doctor,  consisted  in  carefully  carrying  out 
the  doctor's  prescription  in  regard  to  hygiene,  and  tak- 
ing his  medicine,  and  watching  the  symptoms  of  his 
malady,  all  the  functions  of  his  organism.  Ivan  Il^'itch 
becp,me  chiefly  interested  in  human  disease  and  human 
health.  When  people  spoke  in  bis  presence  of  those 
who  were  sick,  of  those  who  had  died,  of  those  who 
were  recuperating,  especially  of  diseases  like  his  own, 
he  would  listen,  endeavoring  to  hide  his  agitation, 
would  ask  questions,  and  make  comparisons  with  his 
own  trouble. 

The  pain  did  not  diminish,  but  Ivdn  Ily  itch  com- 
pelled himself  to  feign  that  he  was  getting  better. 
And  he  was  able  to  deceive  himself  when  there  was 
nothing  to  irritate  him.  But  the  moment  that  he  had 
any  disagreeable  scene  with  his  wife,  a  rebuff  in  court, 
a  bad  hand  at  vint^  then  instantl}^  he  felt  the  full  force 
of  his  malady  :  formerly  he  endured  these  rebuffs,  hop- 
ing that  "  now  I  shall  straighten  out  this  wretched 
business,  shall  conquer,  shall  have  success,  win  the 
next  hand." 

But  now  every  little  rebuff  cut  him  right  down,  and 
plunged  him  in  despair.     He  said  to  himself,  — 

*'  Here  I  was  just  beginning  to  get  a  little  better, 
and  the  medicine  was  already  hel[)ing  me,  and  here  this 
cursed  bad  luck  or  this  unpleasantness  "  .  .  . 


THE  DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  43 

And  he  would  break  out  against  his  bad  luck,  or 
against  the  people  who  l)rought  him  unpleasantness, 
and  were  killing  him  ;  and  he  realized  how  this  fit  of 
anger  was  killing  him,  but  he  could  not  control  it. 

It  would  seem  that  he  must  see  clearly  that  this  giv- 
ing wa}'  to  anger  against  circumstances  and  people 
confirmed  his  malady,  and  that,  therefore,  he  ought  not 
to  notice  disagreeable  trifles ;  but  he  reasoned  in  pre- 
cisely the  opposite  way.  He  said'that  he  needed  quiet : 
he  took  note  of  all  that  might  disturb  this  quiet,  and  at 
every  least  disturbance  his  irritation  broke  out.  His 
state  was  rendered  worse  by  the  fact  that  he  read  medi- 
cal works,  and  consulted  with  doctors. 

The  progress  of  his  disease  was  so  gradual  that  he 
was  able  to  deceive  himself  by  comparing  one  evening 
with  the  next:  there  was  little  difference.  But  when 
he  consulted  with  the  doctors,  then  it  seemed  to  him 
that  it  was  growing  worse,  and  very  rapidl}'  also. 
And  notwithstanding  that  he  constantly  consulted  with 
doctors. 

During  this  month  he  went  to  another  celebrity :  the 
second  celebrity  said  pretty  much  the  same  as  the  first, 
but  he  propounded  his  questions  in  a  different  way. 
And  the  consultation  with  this  celebrity  redoubled  Ivan 
Ily itch's  doubt  and  fear. 

A  friend  of  a  friend  of  his  —  a  very  good  doctor  — 
gave  an  absolutely  different  definition  of  his  malady ; 
and  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  predicted  recov- 
ery, his  questions  and  hypotheses  still  further  confused 
Ivan  Ilyitch,  and  increased  his  doubts. 

A  homceopathist  defined  his  disease  in  a  still  differ- 
ent manner,  and  gave  him  some  pellets ;  and  Ivdn 
Ilyitch,  without  being  suspected  by  any  one,  took  them 
for  a  week.     But  at  the  end  of  the  week,  not  perceiv- 


44  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH. 

ing  that  any  relief  came  of  them,  and  losing  faith,  not 
only  in  this,  but  in  his  former  methods  of  treatment, 
he  fell  into  still  greater  melancholy. 

One  time  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance  was  telling  him 
about  cures  effected  by  means  of  ikons.  Ivan  llyitch 
surprised  himself  by  listening  attentively,  and  believ- 
ing in  the  reality  of  the  fact.  This  discovery  fright- 
ened him. 

"Is  it  possible  that  ray  faculties  have  reached  such 
a  degree  of  weakness?"  he  asked  himself.  ''Non- 
sense !  All  rubbish !  One  must  not  give  way  to  mere 
fancies.  Now  I'm-  going  to  select  one  physician,  and 
rigorously  follow  his  advice.  That's  what  I  will  do. 
Tliat's  the  end  of  it.  I  will  not  bother  my  brain,  and 
till  summer  I  will  strictly  carry  out  his  prescription  ; 
and  then  the  result  will  be  seen.  Now  for  an  end  to 
these  hesitations." 

It  was  easy  to  say  this,  but  impossible  to  carry  it 
out.  The  pain  in  his  side  constantly  troubled  him, 
constantly  seemed  to  grow  worse,  became  incessant ; 
the  taste  in  his  mouth  became  always  more  and  more 
peculiar  ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  breath  was  disagree- 
able, and  his  strength  constantly  failed  him.  It  was 
impossible  to  deceive  himself :  something  terrible, 
novel,  and  significant,  more  significant  than  any  thing 
that  had  ever  happened  before  in  his  life,  was  taking 
place  in  Ivdn  llyitch.  And  he  alone  was  conscious  of 
it :  those  who  surrounded  him  did  not  comprehend  it, 
or  did  not  wish  to  comprehend  it,  and  thought  that 
every  thing  in  the  world  was  going  on  as  before. 

This  more  than  aught  else  pained  Ivan  llyitch.  His 
family,  —  especially  his  wife  and  daughter,  who  were  in 
the  very  white-heat  of  visits,  —  he  saw,  did  not  com- 
prehend at  all,  were  vexed  with  him  because  he  was 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCTL  45 

gloomy  and  exacting,  as  though  he  were  to  blame  for  it. 
Even  though  thc}^  tried  to  hide  it,  he  saw  that  he  was 
in  their  way,  but  that  his  wife  had  definitely  made  up 
her  mind  in  regard  to  his  trouble,  and  stuck  to  it,  no 
matter  what  he  might  say  or  do. 

This  mental  attitude  was  expressed  in  some  such 
way  as  this :  ''  You  know,"  she  would  say  to  her  ac- 
quaintance, ''  it  is  impossible  for  Ivdu  Ilyitch  to  rigor- 
ously carry  out  the  doctor's  prescriptions,  as  all  decent 
men  would  do.  To-day  he  takes  his  drops,  and  eats 
w^hat  is  ordered  for  him,  and  goes  to  bed  betimes :  to- 
morrow, all  of  a  sudden,  if  I  don't  look  out,  he  will 
forget  to  take  his  medicine,  will  eat  sturgeon  (though  it 
is  forbidden),  yes,  and  sit  up  at  vint  till  one  o'clock." 

''Well,  now,  when?"  asks  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  somewhat 
vexed.     "  Just  once  at  Piotr  Ivanovitch's." 

*' And  last  evening  with  Shebek." 

"  All  right,  — I  could  not  sleep  from  pain."  .   .  . 

"  Yes,  no  matter  what  it  comes  from  :  only  you  will 
never  get  over  it  in  this  waj-,  and  will  keep  on  tor- 
menting us." 

Praskovia  Feodorovna's  settled  conviction  in  regard 
to  this  disease,  —  and  she  impressed  it  upon  every  one, 
and  upon  Ivdn  Ilyitch  himself,  —  was  that  he  was  to 
blame  for  it,  and  this  whole  illness  was  a  new  indig- 
nity put  upon  his  wife.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  felt  that  this 
was  involuntary  on  her  part,  but  it  was  not  on  that 
account  any  easier  for  him  to  bear  it. 

In  court  Ivdn  Ilyitch  noticed,  or  thought  that  he 
noticed,  the  same  strange  behavior  toward  him.  Now 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  regarded  as  a  man  who 
was  soon  to  give  up  his  place :  again,  his  friends  sud- 
denly began  to  rally  him  about  his  gloominess,  as 
though  this  horrible,  strange,  and  unheard-of  something 


46  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCU. 

thfit  was  breeding  in  him,  find  ceaselessly  sucking  up 
his  vitality,  and  irresistibly  dragging  him  away,  w^ere  a 
pleasant  subject  for  raillery  !  Schwartz  especially  irri- 
tated him  with  his  jocularity,  his  lively  ways,  and  his 
comme-il-faut-ness,  reminding  Ivan  Ilyitch  of  himself 
as  he  had  been  ten  years  before. 

Friends  dropped  in  to  have  a  game  of  cards.  They 
sat  down :  they  dealt,  new  cards  were  shuffled,  dia- 
monds were  thrown  on  diamonds,  —  seven  of  them. 
His  partner  said,  "No  trumps,"  and  held  up  two 
diamonds.  What  more  could  be  desired  ?  It  ought  to 
have  been  a  ga}',  proud  moment, — a  clean  sweep. ^ 
And  suddenly  Ivdn  Ilyitch  was  conscious  of  that  pain, 
of  that  taste  in  his  mouth,  and  it  seemed  to  him  barba- 
rous that  he  should  be  able  thus  to  rejoice  in  this  hand. 
He  looked  at  Mikhail  INIikhailovitch,  his  partner,  as  he 
rapped  the  table  with  his  big  red  hand,  and  courteously 
and  condescendingly  refrained  from  gathering  up  the 
tricks,  but  pushed  them  over  to  Iv^n  Ilyitch  that  he 
might  have  the  pleasure  of  counting  them,  without  in- 
conveniencing himself,  without  putting  his  hand  out. 

"What !  does  he  think  that  I  am  so  weak  that  I  can't 
put  my  hand  out?  "  thinks  Ivdn  Ilyitch  ;  forgets  what 
were  trumps ;  trumps  his  partner's  trick,  and  loses 
the  sweep  by  three  points.  And  what  is  more  terrible 
than  all,  is  that  he  sees  how  Mikhai'l  Mikhailovitch 
suffers,  and  to  him  it  is  a  matter  of  indifference.  And 
it  is  terrible  to  think  why  it  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  him. 

All  see  that  it  is  hard  for  him,  and  say  to  him,  — 

"  We  can  stop  playing  if  you  are  tired.  You  rest 
a  while."  .  .  . 

Rest  ?     No :  he  is  not  tired  at  all ;  they  will  finish 

1  /She  lorn. 


THE  DEATH   OF  IVAN   ILYITCTI.  47 

the  rubber.  All  are  gloomy  and  taciturn.  Iv^n  Ilyitch 
feels  that  he  is  the  cause  of  their  gloominess,  and  he 
cannot  enliven  it.  They  have  supper,  and  then  go 
home ;  and  Ivan  Ilyitch  is  left  alone,  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  his  life  is  poisoned  for  him,  and  that 
he  is  poisoning  the  lives  of  others,  and  that  this  poison 
is  not  growing  weaker,  but  is  always  working  its  way 
deeper  and  deeper  into  his  being. 

And  with  this  consciousness,  sometimes  also  with 
physical  pain,  sometimes  with  terror,  he  must  needs 
go  to  bed,  and  frequently  not  sleep  from  anguish  the 
greater  part  of  the  night.  And  in  the  morning  he 
must  needs  get  up  again,  dress,  go  to  court,  speak, 
write,  and,  unless  he  goes  to  ride,  stay  at  home  for 
those  twenty- four  hours,  each  one  of  which  was  a 
torture.  And  he  must  needs  live  thus  on  the  edge  of 
destruction  alone,  without  any  one  to  understand  him 
and  pity  him. 


48  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCU. 


Thus  passed  one  month  and  two.  Before  New- 
Year's  his  brother-in-law  came  to  their  city,  and  stopped 
at  their  house.  Praskovia  Feodorovna  had  gone  out 
shopping.  Ivan  Il3atch  was  in  court.  When  he  came 
home,  and  went  into  his  library,  he  found  his  brother- 
in-law  there,  a  healthy,  sanguine  man,  engaged  in 
opening  his  trunk.  He  raised  his  head  as  he  heard 
Ivan  Ilyitch's  steps,  and  looked  at  him  a  moment  in 
silence.  This  look  revealed  all  to  Ivdn  Ilyitch.  His 
brother-in-law  opened  his  mouth  to  say  "  Akh  !  "  and 
refrained.     This  motion  confirmed  every  thing. 

' '  What  ?     Have  I  changed  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes  .  .  .  there  is  a  change." 

And  though  Ivdn  Ilyitch  tried  to  keep  the  conversa- 
tion on  his  external  appearance,  his  brother-in-law 
avoided  the  subject.  Praskovia  Feodorovna  came  in  : 
his  brother-in-law  went  to  her  room.  Ivan  Ilyitch 
locked  the  door,  and  began  to  look  at  himself  in  the 
glass,  first  front  face,  then  his  profile.  He  took  his 
portrait,  and  compared  it  with  what  he  saw  in  the  mir- 
ror. The  change  was  immense.  Then  he  bared  his 
arm  to  the  elbow,  looked  at  it,  pulled  down  his  sleeve, 
sat  down  on  the  otomanka,  and  it  became  darker  than 
night. 

' '  It  must  not  —  it  must  not  be  !  "  said  he  to  him- 
self ;  jumped  up,  went  to  the  table,  opened  a  brief, 
began  to  read  it,  but  could  not.     He  opened  the  door, 


THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  49 

went  out  into  the  parlor.  The  sitting-room  door  was 
shut.     He  tiptoed  up  to  it,  and  began  to  listen. 

"  No,  you  exaggerate,"  Praslaovia  Feodorovua  was 
saying. 

''How  do  I  exaggerate?  Isn't  it  plain  to  j^ou? 
He's  a  dead  man.  Look  at  his  eyes  :  no  light  in  them. 
.  .  .  But  what's  the  matter  with  him?" 

*'  No  one  knows.  Nikolaef  "  (this  was  another  doc- 
tor) "says  one  thing,  but  I  don't  know  about  it. 
Leshchititsky "  (this  was  the  famous  doctor)  "says 
the  opposite  "... 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  turned  awaj',  went  to  his  room,  lay 
down,  and  began  to  think  :  "kidney — a  loose  kidney  !  " 

He  recalled  all  that  the  doctors  had  told  him,  —  how 
it  was  torn  away,  and  how  it  was  loose.  And  by  an 
effort  of  his  imagination  he  endeavored  to  catch  this 
kidney,  to  stop  it,  to  fasten  it.  "  It  takes  so  little," 
it  seemed  to  him. 

"No:  I  must  make  another  visit  to  Piotr  Ivano- 
vitch."  (This  was  the  friend  whose  friend  was  a 
doctor.) 

He  rang,  ordered  the  horse  to  be  harnessed,  and 
got  ready  to  go  out. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Jean  7  "  asked  his  wife,  with 
a  peculiarly  gloomy  and  unusually  gentle  expression. 

This  unusual  gentleness  angered  him.  He  looked 
at  her  grimly. 

"  I  have  got  to  go  to  Piotr  Ivdnovitch's." 

He  went  to  the  friend  who  had  the  medical  friend, 
and  with  him  to  the  doctor's.  He  found  him  at  home, 
and  had  a  long  talk  with  him. 

As  he  examined  the  anatomical  and  phj^siological 
details  of  what,  'according  to  the  doctor,  was  taking 
place  in  him,  he  comprehended  it  perfectly. 


50  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

There  was  one  mere  trifle  —  the  least  bit  of  a  trifle 
in  the  blind  intestine.  All  that  could  be  put  to  rights. 
Strengthen  the  force  of  one  organ,  weaken  the  activ- 
ity of  another  —  assimilation  ensues,  and  all  is  set  to 
rights. 

He  was  a  little  late  to  dinner.  He  ate  heartily,  he 
talked  gayly,  but  for  a  long  time  he  was  not  able  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  go  to  work. 

•  At  last  he  went  to  his  library,  and  immediately  sat 
down  to  his  labors.  He  read  his  briefs,  and  labored 
over  them  ;  tjut  he  did  not  get  rid  of  the  consciousness 
that  he  had  before  him  an  important,  private  duty, 
W'hich  he  must  carry  out  to  a  conclusion. 

When  he  had  finished  his  briefs,  he  remembered 
that  this  private  duty  was  the  thinking  about  the  blind 
Intestine.  But  he  did  not  give  in  to  it :  he  went  to  the 
sitting-room  to  tea.  They  had  callers  ;  there  was  con- 
versation, there  w^as  playing  on  the  pianoforte,  and 
singing  ;  the  examining  magistrate,  the  desirable  match 
for  their  •daughter,  was  there.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  spent  the 
evening,  as  Praskovia  Feodorovna  observed,  more  gaji}' 
than  usual ;  but  he  did  not  for  a  moment  forget  that 
he  had  before  him  these  important  thoughts  about  the 
blind  intestine. 

At  eleven  o'clock  he  bade  his  friends  good-night, 
and  retired  to  his  own  room.  Since  his  illness  began, 
he  had  slept  alone  in  a  little  room  off  the  librarj'.  >*He 
went  to  it,  undressed,  and  took  a  romance  of  Zola's ; 
but  he  did  not  read  it :  he  thought.  And  in  his  im- 
agination the  longed-for  cure  of  the  blind  intestine 
took  place.  Assimilation,  secretion,  were  stimulated: 
regulated  activity  was  established. 

"Yes,  it  is  just  exactly  so,"  said  he  to  himself. 
"  It  is  only  necessary  to  help  nature.'* 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCIL  51 

He  remembered  his  medicine,  got  up,  took  it,  lay  on 
bis  back,  waiting  for  the  medicine  to  have  its  beneficent 
effect,  and  gradually  ease  his  pain. 

"Only  take  it  regularly,  and  avoid  unhealthy  influ- 
ences :  -  even  now  I  feel  a  little  better,  considerably 
better." 

He  began  to  punch  his  side :  it  was  not  painful  to 
the  touch. 

*' No,  I  don't  feel  it  —  already  I  feel  considerably 
better." 

He  blew  out  the  candle,  and  lay  on  his  side.  .  .  . 
''The  blind  intestine  becomes  regulated,  assimilates  "  — 

And  suddenly  he  began  to  feel  the  old,  well-known, 
dull,  lingering  pain,  stubborn,  silent,  serious ;  in  his 
mouth  the  same  well-known  taste.  His  heart  sank 
within  him  :  his  brain  was  in  a  whirl. 

"My  God!  my  God!"  he  cried,  "again,  again! 
and  it  will  never  cease!" 

And  suddenly  the  trouble  presented  itself  to  him 
absolutely  in  another  guise. 

"  The  blind  intestine  !  the  kidney  !  "  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  The  trouble  lies,  not  in  the  blind  intestine,  not 
in  the  kidne}^  —  but  in  life  —  and  death  !  Yes,  once 
there  was  life  ;  but  now  it  is  passing  away,  passing 
away,  and  I  cannot  hold  it  back.  Yes.  Wh}'  deceive 
one's  self  ?  Is  it  not  evident  to  every  one,  except  m}^- 
self ,  that  I  am  going  to  die  ?  and  it  is  only  a  question  of 
weeks,  of  days  —  maybe  instantly.  It  was  light,  but 
now  darkness.  —  Now  I  was  here,  but  then  I  shall  be 
there!  Where?"  A  chill  ran  over  him  :  his  breath- 
ing ceased.     He  heard  only  the  thumping  of  his  heart. 

"I  shall  not  be,  but  what  will  be?  There  will  be 
nothing.  Then,  where  shall  I  be  when  I  am  no  more? 
Will  that  be  death?    No,  I  will  not  have  it !  " 


52  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   TLYITCFT. 

He  leaped  up,  "wished  to  light  the  candle,  fumbled 
about  with  trembling  hands,  knocked  the  candle  and 
candlestick  to  the  floor,  and  again  fell  back  upon  the 
pillow. 

"Wherefore?  It  is  all  the  same,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, gazing  into  the  darkness  with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Death  !  Yes,  —  death  !  And  they  know  nothing 
about  it,  and  wish  to  know  nothing  about  it ;  and  the}^ 
do  not  pity  me.  They  are  playing."  (He  heard 
through  the  door  the  distant  sound  of  voices  and  ritor- 
nelles. )  "To  them  it  is  all  the  same  .  .  .  and  tliey 
also  will  die.  Little  fools  !  I  first,  and  they  after  me. 
It  will  be  their  turn  also.  But  they  are  enjoying  them- 
selves !     Cattle!" 

Anger  choked  him.  And  he  felt  an  insupportably 
heavy  burden  of  anguish.  "  It  cannot  be  that  all  must 
be  exposed  to  this  horrible  terror."  He  lifted  himself 
once  more. 

"  No,  it  is  not  so  at  all.  I  must  calm  myself:  I  must 
think  it  all  over  from  the  beginning." 

And  here  he  began  to  reflect,  — 

"  Yes,  the  beginning  of  the  trouble.  I  hit  my  side, 
and  I  was  just  the  same  as  before,  one  day  and  the 
next,  only  a  little  ache,  then  more  severe,  then  the 
doctor,  then  low  spirits,  anxiety,  the  doctor  again. 
And  I  am  all  the  time  coming  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  abyss.  Less  strength.  Nearer,  nearer !  And  ' 
how  wasted  I  am  !  I  have  no  light  in  my  eyes.  And 
death  —  and  I  thinking  about  the  intestine !  I  am 
thinking  only  how  to  cure  my  intestine ;  but  this  is 
death  !  — Is  it  really  death?  " 

Again  fear  fell  upon  him.  He  panted,  bent  over, 
tried  to  find  the  matches,  hit  his  elbow  against  the 
table.     It  hindered  him,   and  hurt  him  :    he  lost  his 


THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  53 

patience,  pushed  angrily  against  it  with  more  violence, 
and  tipped  it  over.  And  in  despair,  all  out  of  breath, 
he  fell  back,  expecting  death  instantly. 

At  this  time  the  visitors  were  going.  Praskovia 
Feodorovna  was  showing  them  out.  She  heard  the 
table  fall,  and  came  in. 

''What  is  the  matter?'* 

"  Nothing  —  I  unintentionally  knocked  it  over.'* 

She  went  out,  and  brought  in  a  candle.  He  was 
lying  heavily,  and  breathing  quickly,  like  a  man  who 
has  just  run  a  verst :  his  eyes  were  fixed,  gazing  at  her. 

''What  is  it,  Jean  ?" 

"  No-thing.  I  —  knock  -  ed  —  over  —  Why  say 
any  thing?  she  will  not  understand,"  he  thought. 

She  did  not  in  the  least  understand.  She  picked  up 
the  table,  put  the  candle  on  it,  and  hurried  out.  She 
had  to  say  good-night  to  her  company. 

When  she  came  back,  he  was  still  lying  on  his  back, 
lookiiig  up. 

"  What  is  the  matter?     Are  you  worse?  '* 

"Yes." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  sat  down. 

"  Do  you  know,  Jean^  I  think  we  had  better  send 
for  Leshchititsky ?  don't  you?  " 

That  meant,  send  for  the  celebrated  doctor,  and  not 
mind  the  expense.    He  smiled  bitterly,  and  said  "  No." 

She  sat  a  moment,  then  came  to  him,  and  kissed 
him  on  the  forehead. 

He  abhorred  her,  with  all  the  strength  of  his  soul, 
at  that  moment  when  she  kissed  him  ;  and  he  had  to 
restrain  himself  from  pushing  her  away. 

"Good-night !  *     God  give  you  pleasant  sleep  !  " 

"Yes." 

1  Proehchai'. 


54  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCU. 


VI. 

Ivan  Ilyitch  saw  that  he  was  going  to  die,  and  he 
was  in  perpetual  despair. 

In  the  depths  of  his  soul,  IvAn  Ilyitch  knew  that  he 
was  going  to  die ;  but  he  not  only  failed  to  get  used  to 
the  thought,  but  also  simply  did  not  comprehend  it, 
could  not  comprehend  it. 

This  form  of  syllogism  which  he  had  studied  in 
Kiziveter's  "  Logic,"  —  '"  Kai"  ^  is  a  man,  men  are  mor- 
tal, therefore  Kai  is  mortal,"  —  had  seemed  to  him  all 
his  life  true  only  in  its  application  to  Kai,  but  never  to 
himself.  It  was  Kai  as  man,  as  man  in  general,  and 
in  this  respect  it  was  perfectly  correct ;  but  he  was  not 
Kai,  and  not  man  in  general,  and  he  had  always  been 
an  entity  absolutely,  absolutely  distinct  from  all  others  : 
he  had  been  Vanya  with  mamma  and  papa,  with  Mltya 
and  Volodya,^  with  his  playthings,  the  coachman,  with 
the  nurse ;  then  with  Katenka,  with  all  the  joys,  sor- 
rows, enthusiasms  of  childhood,  boyhood,  youth. 

Was  it  Kai  who  smelt  the  odor  of  the  little  striped 
leather  ball  that  Vanya  loved  so  dearly  ?  Was  it  Kai 
who  kissed  his  mother's  hand?  and  was  it  for  Kai  that 
the  sili^en  folds  of  his  mother's  dress  rustled  so?  Was 
it  he  who  made  a  conspiracy  for  the  tarts  at  the  Law 
School?  Was  it  Kai  who  had  been  so  in  love?  Was 
it  Kai  who  had  such  ability  in  conducting  the  sessions  ? 

1  The  typical  being  in  logic,  lilje  our  A.    Kai  means  word. 
*  DimiuutioQti  resi^ectively  of  Ivau,  Dmitri,  and  Vladimir. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCB.  55 

"  And  Kai  is  certainly  mortal,  and  it  is  proper  that 
he  should  die ;  but  for  me,  Vanya,  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  with 
all  my  feelings,  my  thoughts,  —  for  me,  that  is  another 
thing,  and  it  cannot  be  that  I  must  take  my  turn  and 
die.     That  would  be  too  horrible." 

This  was  the  way  that  he  felt  about  it :  — 

''If  I  were  going  to  die,  like  Kai',  then,  surety,  I 
should  have  known  it ;  some  internal  voice  would  have 
told  me ;  but  nothing  of  the  sort  happened  in  me,  and 
I  myself,  and  "my  friends,  all  of  us,  perceived  that  it 
was  absolutely  different  in  our  case  from  what  it  was 
with  Kai.  But  now  how  is  it?"  he  said  to  himself. 
''  It  cannot  be,  it  cannot  be,  but  it  is !  How  is  this? 
How  understand  it? " 

And  he  could  not  understand  it ;  and  he  endeavored 
to  put  away  this  thought  as  false,  unjust,  unwholesome, 
and  to  supplant  it  with  other  thoughts  true  and  whole- 
some. But  this  thought,  not  merely  as  a  thought,  but, 
as  it  were,  a  reality,  kept  recurring  and  taking  form 
before  him. 

And  he  summoned  in  place  of  this  thought  other 
thoughts,  one  after  the  other,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
succor  in  them.  He  strove  to  return  to  his  former 
course  of  reasoning,  which  hid  from  him  of  old  the 
thought  of  death.  But,  strangely  enough,  all  that 
wihich  formerly  hid,  concealed,  destroyed  the  image  of 
death,  was  now  incapable  of  producing  that  effect. 

Ivan  Ilyitch  came  to  spend  the  most  part  of  his 
time  in  these  attempts  to  restore  the  former  current  of 
feeling  which  put  death  out  of  sight.  Sometimes  he 
said  to  himself,  — 

' '  I  will  take  up  my  duties  again :  they  certainly 
kept  me  alive." 

And  he  went  to  court,  driving,  away  every  sort  of 


56  '    THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYJTCH. 

doubt.  He  joined  his  colleagues  in  conversation,  and 
sat  down,  according  to  his  old  habit,  pensively  looking 
with  dreamy  eyes  on  the  throng,  and  resting  his  two 
emaciated  hands  on  the  arms  of  his  oak  chair,  leaning 
over,  just  as  usual,  toward  his  colleague,  running 
through  the  brief,  whispering  his  comments  ;  and  then, 
suddenly  lifting  his  eyes,  and  sitting  straight,  he  pro- 
nounced the  well-known  words,  and  began  business. 

But  suddeul}',  right  in  the  midst  of  it,  the  pain  in 
his  side,  entirely  disregarding  the  time  of  public  busi- 
ness, began  its  simultaneous  business.  Ivan  Ilyitch 
perceived  it,  tried  to  turn  his  thoughts  from  it ;  but  it 
took  its  course,  and  it^  came  up  and  stood  directly 
before  him,  and  gazed  at  him :  and  he  was  stupefied ; 
the  fire  died  out  in  his  eyes,  and  he  began  once  more 
^to  ask  himself,  — 

"  Is  there  nothing  true  save  it?  '* 

And  his  colleagues  and  subordinates  saw  with  sur- 
prise and  concern  that  he,  this  brilliant,  keen  judge, 
was  confused,  was  making  mistakes. 

He  shook  himself,  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and 
in  a  way  conducted  the  session  till  it  adjourned,  and 
then  returned  home  with  the  melancholy  consciousness 
that  he  no  longer  had  the  ability,  as  of  old,  to  separate 
between  his  judicial  acts  and  what  he  wished  to  put 
out  of  his  thoughts  ;  that  even  in  the  midst  of  his  judi- 
cial acts,  he  could  not  deliver  himself  from  rr.  And 
what  was  worse  than  all,  was  the  fact  that  it  distracted 
his  attention,  not  to  make  him  do  any  thing,  but  only 
to  make  him  look  at  it,  straight  in  the  eye,  —  look  at 
it,  and,  though  doing  nothing,  suffer  beyond  words. 

And  while  attempting  to  escape  from  this  state  of 
things,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  sought  relief,  sought  other  shelter ; 

>  Ond  ;  that  is,  death,  or  the  thought  of  death. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  TLYITCH.  57 

and  other  shelter  came  along,  and  for  a  short  time 
seemed  to  help  him  ;  but  immediately  they  not  so  much 
failed,  as  grew  transparent,  as  though  it  became  visible 
through  all,  and  nothing  could  hide  it. 

It  happened  in  this  latter  part  of  the  time  that  he 
went  into  the  parlor  which  he  had  decorated,  —  that 
very  parlor  where  he  had  met  with  the  fall,  for  which 
he  —  as  he  had  to  think  with  bitterness  and  scorn  — 
for  the  decoration  of  which  he  had  sacrificed  his  life ; 
because  he  knew  that  his  malady  began  with  that 
bruise:  he  went  in,  and  saw  that  on  the  lacquered 
table  was  a  scratch,  as  though  cut  by  something.  He 
sought  for  the  cause  of  it,  and  found  it  in  the  bronze 
decoration  of  an  album,  which  was  turned  up  at  the 
edge.  He  took  the  precious  album,  lovingly  filled  by 
him,  and  broke  out  in  a  passion  against  the  careless- 
ness of  his  daughter  and  her  friends,  who  destroyed 
things  so,  who  dog-eared  photographs.  He  put  this 
carefully  to  rights,  and  bent  back  the  ornament. 

Then  the  idea  occurred  to  him  to  transfer  this  ^to- 
blissementy^  album  and  all,  to  the  other  corner,  where  the 
flowers  were.  He  rang  for  a  servant.  Either  his  wife 
or  his  daughter  came  to  his  help :  they  did  not  agree 
.with  him  ;  they  argued  against  the  change  :  he  argued, 
he  lost  his  temper ;  but  it  was  all  serene,  because  he 
did  not  think  about  it  ;  it  did  not  appear. 

But  here,  as  he  himself  began  to  shift  the  things,  his 
wife  said,  — 

' '  Hold  on  !  the  men  will  attend  to  that :  you  will 
strain  yourself  again." 

And  suddenly  it  gleamed  through  the  shelter :  he  saw 
it:  It  gleamed :  he  was  already  hoping  that  it  had 
disappeared,  but  involuntarily  he  watched  for  the  pain 

1  In  French  iu  the  origiual. 


58  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   TLYITCH. 

—  there  it  was,  all  the  time,  always  making  its  advance  ; 
and  he  cannot  forget  it,  and  it  clearly  gazes  at  him 
from  among  the  flowers.  What  is  the  purpose  of  it 
all? 

"  And  it  is  true  that  here  I  have  lost  my  life  on  that 
curtain  as  in  a  charge  !  Is  it  possible?  How  horrible 
and  how  ridiculous !  It  cannot  be  !  It  cannot  be  I 
but  it  is.'' 

He  went  back  to  his  library,  went  to  bed,  and  found 
himself  again  alone  with  it.  Face  to  face  with  it. 
But  to  do  any  thing  with  it  —  impossible!  Only  to 
look  at  it,  and  grow  chill ! 

Note.  —  "  The  anatomy  is  so  made  sometimes  that  the  kid- 
ney on  each  side  may  be  so  loose  that  it  is  said  to  be  a  '  floating ' 
or,  more  rarely,  '  wandering.'  In  three  thousand  post-mortem 
examinations,  I  have  seen  some  three  sucli  cases.  The  kidney, 
so  loose  in  its  position  sometimes,  by  getting  in  the  wrong  place 
disturbs  the  anatomy  elsewhere;  and  the  surgeon  cuts  down 
upon  it,  and  fastens  it  in  its  proper  place.  The  spleen  is  very 
variable  in  its  size,  but  does  not  wander.  The  blind  intestine 
is  the  *  head '  of  the  large  gut  just  below  where  the  small  gut 
enters  it."  — Dr.  F.  Ferguson  in  note  to  translator. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  59 


VII. 


How  this  came  about  in  the  third  month  of  Ivdn 
Ilyitch's  ill  health,  it  was  impossible  to  say,  because  it 
came  about  step  hy  step  imperceptibly ;  but  it  came 
about  that  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  his  son  and  the 
servants,  and  his  acquaintances  and  the  doctor,  and 
chiefly  he  himself,  knew  that  all  the  interest  felt  in 
him  by  others  was  concentrated  in  this  one  thing,  — 
how  soon  he  would  vacate  his  place,  would  free  the 
living  from  the  constraint  caused  by  his  presence,  and 
be  himself  freed  .from  his  sufferings. 

He  slept  less  and  less :  they  gave  him.  opium,  and 
began  to  try  hypodermic  injections  of  morphine.  But 
this  did  not  relieve  him.  The  dull  distress  which  he 
experienced  in  his  half  drowsy  condition,  at  first  merely 
afforded  the  relief  of  change  ;  but  soon  the  pain  came 
back  as  severe  as  ever,  or  even  more  intensified. 

They  prepared  for  him  special  dishes,  according  to 
the  direction  of  the  physicians  ;  but  these  dishes  always 
became  more  and  more  tasteless,  more  and  more  repug- 
nant to  him. 

Special  arrangements  also  had  been  made,  so  that  he 
might  perform  the  wants  of  nature  ;  and  each  time  it 
became  more  trying  for  him.  The  torture  came  from 
the  uncleanliness,  the  indecency  of  it,  and  the  ill  odor, 
from  the  knowledge  that  he  required  the  assistance  of 
another. 

But  from  this  very  same  disagreeable  circumstance, 


60  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

Ivdn    Ilyitch    drew    a    consolation.      The    muzhik  — 
butler  —  Gerdsiin  always  came  to  set  things  to  rights. 

Gerdsim  was  a  clean,  ruddy  young  muzhik,  who  had 
grown  stout  in  the  city  inns.  Always  festive,  always 
serene.  From  the  very  first,  the  sight  of  this  man, 
always  so  neatly  attired  in  his  Russian  costume,  en- 
gaged in  this  repulsive  task,  made  Ivan  Ilyitch  ashamed. 

Gerdsim  came  in  with  light,  buoyant  steps,  in  thick 
boots,  diffusing  an  agreeable  odor  of  tar  from  his  boots, 
and  the  freshness  of  the  winter  air.  He  wore  a  clean 
hempen  apron  and  clean  cotton  shirt,  with  the  cuffs 
rolled  up  on  his  bare,  strong  young  arms ;  and  not 
looking  at  Ivan  Ilyitch,  evidently  curbing  the  joy  in 
life  which  shone  in  his  face,  so  as  not  to  offend  the 
sick  man,  he  approached  him. 

*'  Gerdsim,"  said  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  in  a  weak  voice. 

Gerdsim  started,  evidently  fearing  that  he  failed  in 
some  duty,  and  turned  toward  the  sick  man  his  fresh, 
good,  simple  young  face,  on  which  the  beard  was  only 
just  beginning  to  sprout. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  3'ou ?  *' 

*'  This,  I  am  thinking,  is  distasteful  to  j^ou.  For- 
give me.     I  am  unable.'* 

"  Do  not  mention  it."  ^  And  Gerdsim's  eyes  shone, 
and  he  showed  his  white  young  teeth.  ''  Whj'  should 
I  not  do  you  this  service?     It  is  for  a  sick  man." 

And  with  expert,  strong  hands,  he  fulfilled  his  wonted 
task,  and  went  out  with  light  steps.  After  five  min- 
utes he  returned,  still  walking  with  light  steps. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  was  still  sitting  in  his  arm-chair. 

"  Gerdsim,"  he  said,  "  be  good  enough  to  assist  me. 
Come  hero." 

Gerdsim  went  to  him. 

1  Fomiiaue-a, 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  61 

"  Lift  me  up.  It  is  hard  for  me  alone,  and  I  sent 
Dmitri  awa}-." 

Gerdsim  went  to  him.  In  just  the  same  way  as  he 
walked,  he  lifted  him  with  his  strong  arm  deftly,  gently, 
and  held  him.  With  his  other  hand  he  adjusted  his 
clothing,  and  then  intended  to  let  him  sit  down.  But 
Ivan  Ilj'itch  requested  him  to  help  him  to  the  sofa. 
Genisim,  without  effort,  and  as  though  not  exercising 
any  pressure,  supported  him,  almost  carrying  him,  to 
the  sofa,  and  set  him  down. 

"  Thank  you.    How  easily,  how  well,  you  do  it  all !  '* 

Gerdsim  again  smiled,  and  was  about  to  go.  But 
Ivdn  Ilyitch  felt  so  good  with  him,  that  he  wanted  him 
to  stay. 

"  Hold  on  !  Please  bring  me  that  chair  — no  ;  that 
one  there.  Put  it  under  my  feet.  It  is  easier  for  me 
when  my  feet  are  raised." 

Gerdsim  brought  the  chair,  put  it  down  noiselessly, 
arranged  so  that  it  set  even  on  the  floor,  and  put  Ivan 
Ilyitch's  legs  on  the  chair.  It  seemed  to  Ivan  Ilyitch 
that  he  felt  more  comfortable  while  Gerasim  was  fixing 
his  legs. 

*'It  is  better  when  my  legs  are  up,"  said  Ivdn 
Ilyitch.     "  Bring  me  that  cushion." 

Gerdsim  did  this.  Again  he  lifted  his  legs,  and 
arranged  it  all.  Again  Ivdn  Ilyitch  felt  better  while 
Gerdsim  was  fixing  his  legs.  When  he  put  them  down, 
he  felt  worse. 

"  Gerdsim,"  said  he,  "  are  you  bus}'  just  now?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Gerdsim,  having  learned  of  city 
people  how  to  speak  with  gentlefolk. 

"  What  have  you  more  to  do?  " 

*'  What  have  I  more  to  do?  Every  thing  has  been 
done,  except  splitting  wood  against  to-morrow." 


62  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCFT. 

"  Then,  hold  my'legs  a  little  higher,  can  you?  " 

"  Why  not?     Of  course  I  can  !  " 

Gerdsim  lifted  his  legs  higher,  and  it  seemed  to  Ivdn 
Ilyitch  that  in  this  position  he  felt  no  pain  at  all.  ' 

"  But  how  about  the  wood  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  bother  yourself.  We'll  have  time 
enough." 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  bade  Gerdsim  to  sit  down  and  hold  his 
legs,  and  he  talked  with  him.  And,  strangely  enough, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  felt  better  while  Gerdsim  was 
holding  his  legs. 

From  that  time  Ivdn  Ilyitch  conceived  the  idea  of 
sometimes  calling  Gerdsim,  and  making  him  hold  his 
legs  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  liked  to  talk  with  him. 
Gerdsim  did  this  easily,  willingly,  simply,  and  with  a 
goodness  of  heart  that  touched  Ivdn  Ilyitch.  In  all 
other  "people,  "good  health,  strength,  vigorous  life,  af- 
fronted Ivdn  Ilyitch  ;  but  Gerdsim 's  strength  and  vig- 
orous life  did  not  affront  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  but  calmed  him. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch's  chief  torment  was  a  lie,  —  the  lie  some- 
how accepted  by  everybody,  that  he  was  only  sick,  but 
not  dying,  and  that  he  needed  only  to  be  calm,  and 
trust  to  the  doctors,  and  then  somehow  he  would  come 
out  all  right.  But  he  knew,  that,  whatever  was  done, 
nothing  would  come  of  it,  except  still  more  excruciat- 
ing anguish  and  death.  And  this  lie  tormented  him  : 
it  tormented  him  that  they  were  unwilling  to  acknowl- 
edge what  all  knew  as  well  as  he  knew,  but  preferred 
to  lie  to  him  about  his  terrible  situation,  and  went  and 
made  him  also  a  party  to  this  lie.  This  lie,  this  lie,  it 
clung  to  him,  even  to  the  very  evening  of  his  death  ; 
this  lie,  tending  to  reduce  the  strange,  solemn  act  of  his 
death  to  the  same  level  as  visits,  curtains,  sturgeon  for 
dinner  ...  it  was  horribly  painful  for  Ivdn  Ilyitch.. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  63 

And  strange  !  many  times,  when  the}-  were  playing  this 
farce  for  his  benefit,  he  was  within  a  hair's-breaclth  of 
shouting  at  them,  — 

"Stop  your  foolish  lies!  you  know  as  well  as  I 
know  that  I  am  dying,  and  so  stop  henceforth  your 
foolish  hes !  " 

But  he  never  had  the  spirit  to  do  this.  The  strange, 
terrible  act  of  his  dissolution,  he  saw,  was  reduced  by 
all  who  surrounded  him  to  the  grade  of  an  accidental 
unpleasantness,  often  unseemly  (when  he  was  regarded 
as  a  man  who  came  into  the  parlor  and  diffused  about 
him  a  bad  odor) ,  and  contrary  to  those  principles  of 
"propriety"  which  he  had  served  all  his  life.  He 
saw  that  no  one  pitied  him,  because  no  one  was  willing 
even  to  appreciate  his  situation.  Only  Ger^isim  appre- 
ciated his  situation,  and  pitied  him.  And,  therefore, 
Ivan  Il^-itch  was  contented  only  when  Gerdsim  was 
present. 

He  was  contented  when  Gerdsim  for  whole  nights  at 
a  time  held  his  legs,  and  did  not  care  to  go  to  sleep, 
saying,  — 

"  Don't  you  trouble  yourself,  Ivdn  Ilyitch :  I  shall 
get  sleep  enough." 

Or  when  suddenly,  using  tliou  instead  of  you,  would 
add,  — 

*'If  thou  wert  not  sick  .  .  .  but  since  thou  art, 
why  not  serve  thee?  " 

Gerdsim  alone  did  not  lie  :  in  Gvevy  way  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  alone  comprehended  what  the  trouble  was, 
and  thought  it  unnecessary  to  hide  it,  and  simply  pitied 
his  sick  barin,  who  was  wasting  away.  He  even  said 
directly  when  Ivan  Ilyitch  wanted  to  send  him  off  to 
bed,  — 

"  We  shall  all  die.     Then,  why  should  I  not  serve 


64  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

you?  "  he  said,  meaning  by  this  that  he  was  not  trou- 
bled by  his  extra  work,  for  precisely  the  reason  that  he 
was  doing  it  for  a  dying  man,  and  he  hoped,  that,  when 
his  time  came,  some  one  would  undertake  the  same 
task  for  him. 

Besides  this  lie,  or  in  consequence  of  it,  Ivdn  Ilyitch 
felt  the  greatest  torment  from  the  fact  that  no  one 
pitied  him  as  he  longed  that  they  would  pity  him.  At 
some  moments  afjter  long  agonies  he  yearned  more  than 
all  —  although  he  would  have  been  the  last  to  confess  it 
—  he  yearned  for  some  one  to  pit}-  hira  as  a  sick  child 
is  pitied.  He  longed  to  be  caressed,  to  be  kissed,  to  be 
wept  for,  as  a  child  is  caressed  and  comforted.  He 
knew  that  he  was  a  magistrate  of  importance,  that  his 
beard  was  turning  gray,  and  that  hence  it  was  impos- 
sible ;  but  nevertheless  he  longed  for  it.  And  in  his 
relations  with  Gerdsim,  there  was  something  that  ap- 
proached this.  And,  therefore,  his  relations  with  Gerd- 
sim  comforted  him. 

Ivan  Ilyitch  would  like  to  weep,  would  like  to  be 
caressed,  and  had  tears  shed  for  him :  and  here  comes 
his  colleague,  the  member  Shebek,  and,  instead  of 
weeping  and  being  caressed,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  puts  on  a 
serious,  stern,  melancholy  expression  of  countenance, 
and  with  all  his  energy  speaks  his  opinions  concerning 
the  significance  of  a  judgment  of  cassation,  and  ob- 
stinately stands  up  for  it. 

This  lie  surrounding  him,  and  existing  in  him,  more 
than  all  else  poisoned  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  last  days. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  65 


VIII. 

It  was  morning.  It  was  morning  merely  because 
Gerasim  iiad  gone,  and  Piotr,  the  lackey,  had  come. 
He  put  out  the  candles,  opened  one  cuvtain,  and  began 
noiselessly  to  put  things  to  rights.  Whether  it  were 
morning,  whether  it  were  evening,  Friday  or  Sunday, 
all  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him,  all  was  one  and 
the  same  thing.  The  agonizing,  shooting  pain,  never 
for  an  instant  appeased ;  the  consciousness  of  a  life 
hopelessl}^  wasting  away,  but  not  yet  departed ;  the 
same  terrible,  cursed  death  coming  nearer  and  nearer, 
the  one  reality,  and  always  the  same  lie,  —  what  mat- 
ter, then,  here,  of  days,  weeks,  and  hours  of  the  day  ?  " 

''  Will  you  not  have  me  bring  the  tea?  " 

''  He  must  follow  form,  and  that  requires  masters 
to  take  tea  in  the  morning,"  he  thought;  and  he  said 
merely,  — 

''No." 

''  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  over  to  the  divan?  " 

"He  has  to  put  the  room  in  order,  and  I  hinder 
him  :  I  am  uucleanness,  disorder !  "  he  thought  to  him- 
self, and  said  merely,  — 

"No:  leave  me  !  " 

The  lackey  still  bustled  about  a  little.  Ivan  Ilyitch 
put  out  his  hand.  Piotr  officiously  hastened  to  him : 
"  What  do  you  command?  " 

"The  watch." 

Piotr  got  the  watch,  holding  it  in  his  palm,  and 
gave  it  to  him. 


66  THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCff. 


"  Half-past  eight.     They  aren't  up  yet?" 

"  No  one  at  all.  Vaslli  Ivanovitch  "  (that  was  his 
son)  "has  gone  to  school,  and  Praskovia  Feodorovna 
gave  orders  to  wake  her  up  if  you  asked  for  her.  Do 
you  wish  it?  " 

"No,  it  is  not  necessary.  —  Shall  I  not  try  the 
tea?"  he  asked  himself.  "Yes  —  tea —  .  .  .  bring 
me  some." 

Piotr  started  to  go  out.  Ivan  Ilyitch  felt  scared  at 
being  left  alone.  "How. can  I  keep  him?  Yes,  my 
medicine." 

"  riotr,  give  me  my  medicine.  Why  not?  perhaps 
the  medicine  may  help  me  yet." 

He  took  the  spoon,  sipped  it. 

"  No,  there  is  no  help.  All  this  is  nonsense  and 
delusion,"  he  said,  as  he  immediately  felt  the  familiar, 
mawkish,  hopeless  taste. 

"  No,  I  cannot  have  an}*  faith  in  it.  But  this  pain, 
—  why  this  pain?  Would  that  it  might  cease  for  a 
minute !  " 

And  he  began  to  groan.     Piotr  came  back. 

' '  Nothing  —  go !     Bring  the  tea. ' ' 

Piotr  went  out.  Ivan  Ilyitch,  left  alone,  began  to 
groan,  not  so  much  from  the  pain,  although  it  was 
horrible,  as  from  mental  anguish. 

"Always  the  same  thing,  and  the  same  thing;  all 
these  endless  da3's  and  nights.  Would  it  might  come 
very  soon!  What  very  soon?  Death,  blackness? 
No,  no  !     Any  thing  rather  than  death  !  " 

When  Piotr  came  back  with  the  tea  on  a  traj',  Ivan 
Ilyitch  stared  long  at  him  in  bewilderment,  not  com- 
prehending who  he  w^as,  what  he  was.  Piotr  was 
abashed  at  this  gaze ;  and  when  Pjptr  showed  his  con- 
fusion, Ivan  Ilyitch  came  to  himself. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  67 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "the  tea;  very  well,  set  it  clown. 
Only  help  me  to  wash,  and  put  on  a  clean  shirt." 

And  Ivan  Ilyitch  began  to  perform  his  toilet.  With 
resting-spells  he  washed  his  hands  and  face,  cleaned 
his  teeth,  began  to  comb  his  hair,  and  looked  into  the 
mirror.  It  seemed  frightful,  perfectly  frightful,  to  him, 
to  see  how  his  hair  lay  flat  upon  his  pale  brow. 

While  he  was  changing  his  shirt,  he  knew  that  it 
would  be  still  more  frightful  if  he  gazed  at  his  body  ; 
and  so  he  did  not  look  at  himself.  But  now  it  was 
done.  He  put  on  his  dressing-gown,  wrapped  himself 
in  his  plaid,  and  sat  down  in  his  easy-chair  to  take  his 
tea.  For  a  single  moment  he  felt  refreshed ;  but  as 
soon  as  he  began  to  drink  the  tea,  again  that  taste, 
that  same  pain.  He  compelled  himself  to  drink  it  up, 
and  lay  down,  stretching  out  his  legs.  He  lay  down, 
and  let  Tiotr  go. 

Always  the  same  thing.  Now  a  drop  of  hope 
gleams,  then  a  sea  of  despair  rises  up,  and  always 
pain,  always  melancholy,  and  always  the  same  monot- 
ony. It  was  terribly  melancholy  to  the  lonely  man  : 
he  longs  to  call  in  some  one,  but  he  knows  in  advance 
that  it  is  still  worse  when  others  are  present. 

"  Even  morphine  again  ...  I  should  forget.  I 
will  tell  him,  tell  the  doctor,  to  invent  something  else. 
It  is  impossible,  impossible  so." 

One  hour,  two,  passes  in  this  way.  But  there ! 
the  bell  in  the  corridor.  Perhaps  'tis  the  doctor.  Ex- 
actly :  it  is  the  doctor,  fresh,  heart}',  portly,  jovial, 
with  that  expression  as  if  he  said,  "You  may  feel 
apprehe«sion  of  something  or  other,  but  we  will  im- 
mediately straighten  things  out  for  you." 

The  doctor  knows  that  this  expression  is  not  appro- 
priate here  ;  but  he  has  already  put  it  on  once  for  all, 


68  TUE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

and  he  cannot  rid  himself  of  it  —  like  a  man  who  has 
put  on  his  dress-coat  in  the  morning,  and  gone  to 
make  calls. 

The  doctor  rubs  his  hands  with  an  air  of  hearty 
assurance. 

''I  am  cold.  A  healthy  frost.  Let  me  get  warm 
a  little,"  says  he,  with  just  the  expression  that  signifies 
that  all  he  needs  is  to  wait  until  he  gets  warmed  a 
little,  and,  when  he  is  warmed,  then  he  will  straighten 
things  out. 

'•'-  Well,  now,  how  goes  it?  '* 

Ivjin  Ilyitch  feels  that  the  doctor  wants  to  say, 
*'  How  go  your  little  affairs?  "  but  that  he  feels  that 
it  is  impossible  to  say  so;  and  he  says,  "How  did 
you  spend  the  night?  " 

Ivan  Ilyitch  looks  at  the  doctor  with  an  expres- 
sion as  though  asking  the  question,  "  Are  you  never 
ashamed  of  lying?  " 

But  the  doctor  has  no  desire  to  understand  his 
question.     And  Ivdn  Ilyitch  says^  — 

"  It  was  just  horrible !  The  pain  does  not  cease, 
does  not  disappear.  If  you  could  only  give  me  some- 
thing for  it !  " 

"  That  is  always  the  way  with  you  sick  folks ! 
Well,  now,  it  seems  to  me  I  am  warm  enough  ;  even 
the  most  particular  Praskovia  Feodorovna  would  not 
find  any  thing  to  take  exception  to  in  my  temperature. 
Well,  now,^  good-by."  And  the  doctor  shakes  hands 
with  him. 

And,  laying  aside  his  former  jocularity,  the  doctor 
begins  with  serious  mien  to  examine  the  sick  man,  his 
pulse  and  temperature,  and  the  tappings,  and  the  aus- 
cultation, 

»  Nu-%. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  69 

Ivtin  Ilyitch  knows  certainly,  and  beyond  perad- 
venture,  that  all  this  is  nonsense  and  foolish  deception  ; 
but  when  the  doctor,  on  his  knees,  leans  over  toward 
him,  applying  his  ear,  now  higher  up,  now  lower  down, 
and  with  most  sapient  mien  performs  various  gymnas- 
tic evolutions  before  him,  Ivdn  Ilyitch  succumbs  to 
him,  as  once  he  succumbed  to  the  discourses  of  the 
lawyers,  even  when  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  they 
were  deceiving  him,  and  why  they  were  deceiving 
him. 

The  doctor,  still  on  his  knees  on  the  divan,  was  still 
performing  the  auscultation,  when  at  the  door  were 
heard  the  rustle  of  Praskovia  Feodorovna's  silk  dress, 
and  her  words  of  blame  to  Piotr  because  she  had  not 
been  informed  of  the  doctor's  visit. 

She  comes  in,  kisses  her  husband,  and  immediately 
begins  to  explain  that  she  had  been  up  a  long  time ; 
and  only  through  a  misunderstanding,  she  had  not 
been  there  when  the  doctor  came. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  looks  at  her,  observes  her  from  head  to 
foot,  and  feels  a  secret  indignation  at  her  fairness,  and 
her  plumpness,  and  the  propriety  of  her  hands,  her 
neck,  her  glossy  hair,  and  the  brilliancy  of  her  eyes 
brimming  with  life.  He  hates  her  with  all  the  strength 
of  his  soul,  and  her  touch  makes  him  suffer  an  actual 
paroxysm  of  hatred  of  her. 

Her  attitude  toward  him  and  his  malady  was  the 
same  as  before.  Just  as  the  doctor  had  adopted  an 
attitude  toward  his  patients  from  which  he  could  not 
depart,  so  she  had  adopted  one  toward  him ;  namely, 
that  he  was  not  doing  what  he  ought  to  do,  and  was 
himself  to  blame ;  and  she  liked  to  reproach  him  for 
this,  and  she  could  not  change  her  attitude  toward 
him. 


70  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

"  Now,  just  see  !  he  does  not  heed,  he  does  not  take 
his  medicine  regularly ;  and,  above  all,  he  lies  in  a 
position  that  is  surely  bad  for  him,  —  his  feet  up." 

She  related  how  he  made  Gerdsim  hold  his  legs. 

The  doctor  listened  with  a  disdainfully  good-natured 
smile.  ''What  is  to  be  done  about  it,  pray?  These 
sick  folks  are  always  conceiving  some  such  foolishness. 
But  you  must  let  it  go.'* 

When  the  examination  was  over,  the  doctor  looked 
at  his  watch  ;  and  then  Praskovia  Feodorovna  declared 
to  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  that,  whether  he  was  willing  or  not, 
she  was  going  that  very  day  to  call  in  the  celebrated 
doctor  to  come  and  have  an  examination  and  consulta- 
tion with  Mikhail  Danilovitch  (that  was  the  name  of 
their  ordinary  doctor) . 

"  Now,  don't  oppose  it,  please.  I  am  doing  this  for 
my  own  self,"  she  said  ironically,  giving  him  to  under- 
stand that  she  did  it  all  for  him,  and  only  on  this 
account  did  not  allow  him  the  right  to  oppose  her. 

He  said  nothing,  and  frowned.  He  felt  that  this 
lie  surrounding  him  was  so  complicated -that  it  was 
now  hard  to  escape  from  it. 

She  did  all  this  for  him,  only  in  her  own  interest ; 
and  she  said  that  she  was  doing  it  for  him,  while  she 
was  in  reality  doing  it  for  herself,  as  some  incredible 
thing,  so  that  he  was  forced  to  take  it  in  its  opposite 
sense. 

The  celebrated  doctor,  in  fact,  came  about  half-past 
eleven.  Once  more  they  had  auscultations  ;  and  learned 
discussions  took  place  before  him,  or  in  the  next  room, 
about  his  kidney,  about  the  blind  intestine,  and  ques- 
tions and  answers  in  such  a  learned  form,  that  again 
the  place  of  the  real  question  of  life  and  death,  which 
now  alone  faced  him,  was  driven  away  by  the  question 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  71 

of  the  kidney  and  the  blind  intestine,  which  were  not 
acting  as  became  them,  and  upon  which  Mikhail  Dani-, 
lovitch  and  tliiC  celebrity  were  to  fall  instantly,  and 
compel  to  attend  to  their  duties. 

The  famous  doctor  took  leave  with  a  serious  but  not 
hopeless  expression.  And  in  reply  to  the  timid  ques- 
tion which  Ivdn  Ilyitch's  eyes,  shining  with  fear  and 
hope,  asked  of  him,  whether  there  was  a  possibility  of 
his  getting  well,  it  replied  that  it  was  impossible  to 
foretell,  but  there  was  a  possibiUty. 

The  look  of  hope  with  which  Ivan  Ilyitch  followed 
the  doctor  was  so  pathetic  that  Praskovia  Feodorovna, 
seeing  it,  even  wept,  as  she  went  out  of  the  library- 
door  in  order  to  give  the  celebrated  doctor  his  honora- 
rium. 

The  raising  of  his  spirits,  caused  by  the  doctor's 
hopefulness,  was  but  temporary.  Again  the  same  room, 
the  same  pictures,  curtains,  wall-paper,  vials,  and  his 
aching,  pain-broken  body.  And  Ivdn  Ilyitch  began  to 
groan.  They  gave  him  a  subcutaneous  injection,  and 
he  forgot  it. 

When  he  came  to  himself,  it  was  beginning  to  grow 
(iusky.  Tliey  brought  him  his  dinner.  He  forced 
himself  to  eat  a  little  bouillon.  And  again  the  same 
monotony,  and  again  the  advancing  night. 

About  seven  o'clock,  after  dinner,  Praskovia  Feodo- 
rovna came  into  his  room,  dressed  as  for  a  party,  with 
her  exuberant  bosom  swelling  in  her  stays,  and  with 
traces  of  powder  on  her  face.  She  had  ah-ead}^  that 
morning  told  him  that  they  were  going  to  the  theatre. 
S^ah  Bernhardt  had  come  to  town,  and  they  had  a 
lozha  which  lie  had  advised  their  taking. 

Now  he  had  forgotten  about  that,  and  her  toilet 
offended  him.     But  he  concealed   his  vexation  when 


72  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCff. 

he  recoUectecl  that  he  himself  liad  insisted  on  their 
taking  a  lozha,  and  going,  on  the  ground  that  it 
would  be  an  instructive,  aesthetic  enjoyment  for  the 
children. 

Praskovia  Feodorovna  came  in  self-satisfied,  but,  as 
it  were,  feeling  a  little  to  blame.  She  sat  down,  asked 
after  his  health,  as  he  saw,  only  for  the  sake  of  ask- 
ing, and  not  so  as  to  learn,  knowing  that  -there  was 
nothing  to  learn,  and  began  to  say  what  was  incum- 
bent upon  her  to  say,  —  that  she  would  not  have  gone 
for  any  thing,  but  that  they  had  taken  the  lozha ;  and 
that  P^len  and  her  daughter  and  Petrishchef  (the  ex- 
amining magistrate,  her  daughter's  betrothed)  were 
going,  and  it  was  impossible  to  let  them  go  alone, 
but  that  it  would  have  been  more  agreeable  to  her 
to  stay  at  home  with  him.  Onl^-  he  should  be  sure  to 
follow  the  doctor's  prescriptions  in  her  absence. 

*'Yes  —  and  Feodor  Petrovitch"  (the  bridegroom) 
"  wanted  to  come  in.     May  he?     And  Liza?  " 

''  Let  them  come." 

The  daughter  came  in,  in  evening-dress,  with  her 
fair  3'oung  body,  —  her  body  that  made  his  anguish 
more  keen.  But  she  paraded  it  before  him,  strong, 
healthy,  evidentl}"  in  love,  and  irritated  against  the  dis- 
ease, the  suffering,  and  death  which  stood  in  the  way 
of  her  happiness. 

Feodor  Petrovitch  also  entered,  in  his  dress-coat, 
with  curh'  hair  a  la  Capoul^  with  long,  sinewy  neck 
tightly  incased  in  a  white  standing-collar,  with  a  huge 
white  bosom,  and  his  long,  muscular  legs  in  tight  black 
trousers,  with  a  white  glove  on  one  hand,  and  with  a 
Mak. 

Immediately  behind  him  came  the  gimnazistik,  in 
his  new  uniform,  poor  little  fellow,  with  gloves  on,  and 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  73 

with  that  terrible  blue  circle  under  the  eyes,  the  mean- 
ing of  which  Ivan  Ilyitch  understood. 

He  always  felt  a  pity  for  his  son.  And  terrible  was 
his  timid  and  compassionate  glance.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  Gerasim,  Vdsya  alone,  it  seemed  to  Ivdn 
Ilyitch,  understood  and  pitied  him. 

All  sat  down :  again  they  asked  after  his  health. 
Silence  ensued.  Liza  asked  her  mother  if  she  had  the 
opera-glasses.  A  dispute  arose  between  mother  and 
daughter  as  to  who  had  mislaid  them.  It  was  a  dis- 
agreeable episode. 

Feodor  Petrovitch  asked  Ivdn  Ilyitch  if  he  had  seen 
Sarah  Bernhardt.  Ivan  Ilyitch  did  not  at  first  under- 
stand his  question,  but  in  a  moment  he  said,  — 

"  No :  have  you  seen  her  yet?  " 

"Yes,  in  'Adrienne  Lecouvreur.'  '* 

Praskovia  Feodorovna  said  that  she  was  perfectly 
splendid  in  it.  The  daughter  disagreed  with  her.  A 
conversation  arose  about  the  grace  and  realism  of  her 
acting,  —  the  same  conversation,  which  is  always  and 
forever  one  and  the  same  thing. 

In  the  midst  of  the  conversation,  Feodor  Petrovitch 
glanced  at  Ivdn  Ilyitch,  and  grew  silent.  The  others 
glanced  at  him,  and  grew  silent.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  was 
looking  around  with  gleaming  eyes,  evidently  indignant 
at  them.  Some  one  had  to  break  the  silence.  No  one 
spoke  ;  and  a  panic  seemed  to  seize  them  all,  lest  sud- 
denly this  ceremonial  lie  should  somehow  be  shattered, 
and  the  absolute  truth  become  manifest  to  all. 

Liza  was  the  first  to  speak.  She  broke  the  silence. 
She  wished  to  hide  what  all  felt,  but  she  simply  be- 
trayed it. 

"  One  thing  is  certain,  —  if  we  are  going^  it  is  time,'* 
she  said,  glancing  at  her  watch,  her  father's  gift ;  and 


74  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

giving  the  young  man  a  sign,  scarcelj'  perceptible, 
and  yet  understood  by  him,  she  smiled,  and  arose  in 
her  rustling  dress. 

All  arose,  said  good-by,  and  went. 

When  they  had  gone,  Ivan  Ilyitch  thought  that  he 
felt  better :  there  was  no  more  lie ;  it  had  gone  with 
them,  but  the  pain  remained.  Always  this  same  pain  : 
always  this  same  fear  made  if  impossible  to  lift  it,  to 
better  it.     It  grew  always  and  worse. 

Again  minute  after  minute  dragged  by,  hour  after 
hour,  forever  the  same  monotony,  and  forever  endless, 
and  forever  more  terrible  —  the  inevitable  end. 

"Yes,  send  me  Gerasim,**  was  his  reply  to  Piotr's 
question. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH  75 


IX. 

Late  at  night  his  wife  returned.  She  came  in  on 
her  tiptoes,  but  he  heard  her:  he  opened  his  eyes,  and 
quickly  closed  them  again.  She  wanted  to  send  Gerd-. 
sim  away,  and  sit  with  him  herself.  He  opened  his 
eyes,  and  said,  — 

''  No,  go  away." 

"  You  suffer  very  much.** 

*' It  makes  no  difference.** 

"  Take  some  opium.** 

He  consented,  and  drank  it.     She  went. 

Until  three  o'clock  he  was  in  a  state  of  painful  tor- 
por. It  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  forcing  him 
cruelly  into  a  narrow  black  sack,  and  deep ;  and  they 
keep  crowding  him  down,  but  cannot  force  him  in. 
And  this  performance,  horrible  for  him,  is  accompanied 
with  anguish.  And  he  is  afraid,  and  yet  wishes  to  fall 
through,  and  struggles  against  it,  and  yet  tries  to  help. 

And  here  suddenly  he  broke  through,  and  fell  .  .  . 
and  awoke.  There  was  Gerasim  still  sitting  at  his  feet 
on  the  bed,  dozing  peacefully  and  patiently. 

But  he  is  lying  there  with  his  emaciated  legs  in  stock- 
ings resting  on  his  shouldei-s,  the  same  candle  with  its 
shade,  and  the  same  never-ending  pain. 

"Go  awaj',  Gerasim,"  he  whispered. 

"  It's  nothing  :  I  will  sit  here  a  little  while.*' 

*'  No,  go  away." 

He  took  down  his  legs,  lay  on  his  side  on  his  handy 


76  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYJTCIL 

and  began  to  pity  himself.  He  waited  onl^^  until  Gera- 
'sim  had  gone  into  the  next  room,  and  then  he  no  longer 
tried  to  control  himself,  but  wept  like  a  child.  He  wept 
over  his  helplessness,  over  his  terrible  loneliness,  over 
the  hard-heartedness  of  men,  over  the  hard-heartedness 
of  God,  over  the  absence  of  God. 

'^Why  hast  Thou  done  this?  Why  didst  Thou 
place  me  here?  Was  it  that  Thou  mightest  torture  me 
so  hoiTibly?  " 

He  did  not  expect  any  reply ;  and  he  wept  because 
there  was  none,  and  could  not  be  one.  The  pain  seized 
him  again  ;  but  he  did  not  stir,  did  not  call.  He  said 
to  himself,  — 

^'  There,  now,  again,  now  strike  !  But  why?  What 
have  I  done  to  Thee?     Why  is  it?  " 

Then  he  became  silent ;  c^sed  not  only  to  weep, 
ceased  to  breathe,  and  became  all  attention  :  as  it  were, 
he  heard,  not  a  voice  speaking  with  soui^ids,  but  the 
voice  of  his  soul,  the  tide  of  his  thoughts  arising  in 
him. 

''  What  dost  thou  need?  "  was  the  first  clear  concept 
possible  to  be  expressed  in  words  which  he  heard. 

"  '  What  dost  thou  need  ?  What  dost  thou  need  ?  '" 
he  said  to  himself.  ''What?  Freedom  from  suffer- 
ing.    To  live,"  he  replied. 

And  again  he  gave  his  attention,  with  such  effort 
that  already  he  did  not  notice  his  pain. 

''  To  live?  how  live?  "  asked  the  voice  of  his  soul. 

"'  Yes,  to  live  as  I  used  to  live  —  well,  pleasantly.'* 

*'  How  didst  thou  live  before  when  thou  didst  live 
well  and  pleasantly?"  asked  the  voice. 

And  he  began  to  call  up  in  his  imagination  the  best 
moments  of  his  pleasant  life.  But,  strangely  enough, 
.all  these  best  moments  of  his  pleasant  life  seemed  to 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  77 

nim  absolutely  different  from  what  they  had  seemed 
then,  —  all,  except  the  earliest  remembrances  of  his 
childhood.  There,  in  childhood,  was  something  really 
pleasant,  that  would  give  new  zest  to  life  if  it  were  to 
return.  But  the  person  who  had  enjoyed  that  pleasant 
existence  was  no  more :  it  was  as  though  it  were  the 
remembrance  concerning  some  one  else. 

As  soon  as  the  period  began  which  had  produced  the 
present  7ie,  IvAn  Ilyitch,  all  the  pleasures  which  seemed 
such  then,  now  in  his  eyes  dwindled  away,  and  changed 
into  something  of  no  account,  and  even  disgusting. 

And  the  farther  he  departed  from  infancy,  and  the 
nearer  he  came  to  the  present,  so  much  the  less  impor- 
tant and  certain  were  th|  pleasures. 

This  began  in  the  law  school.  There  was  still  some- 
thing even  then  that  was  truly  good :  then  there  was 
gayety,  there  was  friendship,  there  were  hopes.  But 
in  the  upper  classes  these  good  moments  became  rarer. 

Then,  in  the  time  of  his  first  service  at  the  govern- 
or's, again  appeared  good  moments:  these  were  the 
recollections  of  love  for  a  woman.  Then  all  this  be- 
came confused,  and  the  happy  time  grew  less.  The 
nearer  lie  came  to  the  present,  the  worse  ft  grew,  and 
still  worse  and  worse  it  grew. 

His  marriage  ...  so  unexpected  and  disillusioniz- 
ing, and  his  wife's  breath  and  sensualit}- ,  hypocrisy ! 
And  this  dead  service,  and  these  labors  for  money ; 
and  thus  one  year,  and  two,  and  ten,  and  twenty,  — 
and  always  the  same  thing.  And  the  longer  it  went, 
the  more  dead  it  became. 

'*  It  is  as  though  all  the  time  I  were  going  down  the 
mountain,  while  thinking  that  I  was  climbing  it.  So 
it  was.  According  to  public  opinion,  I  was  climbing 
the  mountain ;   and  all  the  time  my  life  was  gliding 


78  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

I  away  from  under  my  feet.  .  .  .  And  here  it  is  already 
IX .  .  .  die! 

"  What  is  this?  Why?  It  cannot  be!  It  cannot 
be  that  life  was  so  irrational,  so  disgusting.  But  even 
if  it  is  so,  so  disgusting  and  irrational,  still,  why  die, 
and  die  in  such  agony?     There  is  no  reason. 

"Can  it  be  that  I  did  not  live  as  I  ought?'*  sud- 
denly came  into  his  head.  "But  how  can  that  be, 
when  I  did  all  that  it  was  my  duty  to  do  ?  "  he  asked 
himself.  And  immediately  he  put  away  this  sole  ex- 
planation of  the  enigma  of  life  and  death  as  something 
absolutely  impossible. 

"What  dost  thou  wish  now?  —  To  live?  To  live 
how?  To  live  as  thou  livest  in  cou-rt  when  the  usher  ^ 
proclaims,  '  The  judgment  is  coming  !  the  judgment  is 
coming '  ?  ^ 

"The  judgment  is  coming  —  the  judgment,"  he  re- 
peated to  himself.  "  Here  it  is,  the  judgment.  Yes  ; 
but  I  am  not' guilty,"  he  cried  with  indignation. 
"What  for?" 

And  he  ceased  to  weep ;  and,  turning  his  face  to  the 
wall,  he  began  to  think  about  that  one  thing,  and  that 
alone.     "  Why,  wherefore,  all  this  horror?  " 

But,  in  spite  of  all  his  thoughts,  he  received  no  an- 
swer. And  when  the  thought  occurred  to  him,  as  it 
had  often  occurred  to  him,  that  all  this  came  from  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  lived  as  he  should,  he  instantly 
remembered  all  the  correctness  of  his  life,  and  he 
drove  away  this  strange  thought. 

'  1  Sudyibnui  pristaf. 
'  Sud  idyot, — a  preliminary  proclamation,  like  our  oyez. 


K 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH,  79 


X. 


Thus  two  weeks  passed.  Ivdn  Ilyitch  no  longer  got 
up  from  the  divan.  He  did  not  wish  to  lie  in  bed, 
and  he  lay  on  the  divan.  And,  lying  almost  all  the 
time  with  his  face  to  the  wall,  he  suffered  in  solitude 
all  those  inexplicable  sufferings,  and  thought  in  soli- 
tude always  the  same  inexplicable  thought. 

*'  What  is  this?    Is  it  true  that  this  is  death?'* 

And  an  inward  voice  responded,  — 

*'  Yes,  it  is  true." 

''  Why  these  torments?  '* 

And  the  voice  responded,  — 

"  But  it  is  so.     There  is  no  why.** 

Farther  and  be3'ond  this,  there  was  nothing. 

From  the  very  beginning  of  his  malady,  from  the 
time  when  Ivdn  Ilyitch  for  the  first  time  went  to  the 
doctor,  his  life  was  divided  into  two  conflicting  ten- 
dencies, alternately  succeeding  each  other.  Now  it 
was  despair,  and  the  expectation  of  an  incomprehen- 
sible and  frightful  death :  now  it  was  hope,  and  the 
observation  of  the  functional  activity  of  his  body,  so 
full  of  interest  for  him.  Then  before  his  eyes  was 
the  kidney,  or  the  intestine,  that,  for  the  time  being, 
failed  to  fulfil  its  duty.  Then  it  was  that  incompre- 
hensible, horrible  death,  from  which  it  was  impossible 
for  any  one  to  escape. 

These  two  mental  states,  from  the  very  beginning  of 
his  illness,  kept  alternating  with  one  another.     But 


80  THE  DEATH   OF  IVAN  ILYJTCH. 

the  farther  the  illness  progressed,  the  more  dubious 
and  fantastical  became  his  ideas  about  the  kidnej',  and 
the  more  real  his  consciousness  of  approaching  death. 

He  had  but  to  call  to  mind  what  he  had  been  three 
months  before,  and  what  he  was  now,  to  call  to  mind 
with  what  regularity  he  had  been  descending  the 
mountain  ;  and  that  was  sufficient  for  all  possibility  of 
hope  to  be  dispelled. 

During  the  last  period  of  this  solitude  through  which 
he  was  passing,  as  he  lay  with  his  face  turned  to  the 
back  of  the  divan,  —  a  solitude  amid  a  populous  city, 
and  amid  his  numerous  circle  of  friends  and  family, 
—  a  solitude  deeper  than  which  could  not  be  found 
anywhere,  either  in  the  depths  of  the  sea,  or  in  the 
earth,  —  during  the  last  period  of  this  strange  soli- 
tude, Ivan  Ilyitch  lived  only  in  the  imagination  of  the 
past. 

One  after  another,  the  pictures  of  his  past  life  arose 
before  him.  They  always  began  with  the  time  nearest 
to  the  present,  and  went  back  to  the  very  remotest,  — 
to  his  childhood,  and  there  they  rested. 

Ivdn  Ilyitch  remembered  the  stewed  prunes  which 
they  gave  him  to  eat  that  very  day  ;  then  remembered 
the  raw,  puckery  French  prunes  of  his  childhood,  their 
peculiar  taste,  -and  the  abundance  of  saliva  caused  by 
the  stone.  And  in  connection  with  these  recollections 
of  taste,  started  a  whole  series  of  recollections  of  that 
time,  —  his  nurse,  his  brother,  his  toys. 

"I  must  not  think  about  these  things:  it  is  too 
painful,"  said  Iv^n  Ilyitch  to  himself.  And  again  he 
transported  himself  to  the  present,  —  the  button  on  the 
back  of  the  divan,  and  the  wrinkles  of  the  morocco. 
"Morocco  is  dear,  not  durable.  There  was  a  quarrel 
about  it.    But  there  was  some  other  morocco,  and  some 


THE   DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH.  81 

other  quarrel,  when  we  tore  father's  portfolio,  and  got 
punished,  and  mamma  brought  us  some  patties."  ^ 

And  again  his  thoughts  reverted  to  childhood ;  and 
again  it  was  painful  to  Ivan  Ilyitch,  and  he  tried  to 
avoid  it,  and  think  of  something  else. 

And  again,  together  with  this  current  of  recollec- 
tions, there  passed  through  his  mind  another  current 
of  recollections  about  the  progress  and  rise  of  his  dis- 
ease. Here,  also,  according  as  he  went  back,  there 
was  more  and  more  of  life.  There  was  more,  also,  of 
excellence  in  life,  and  more  of  life  itself.  And  the 
two  were  confounded. 

"Just  as  this  agony  goes  from  worse  to  worse,  so 
also  all  my  life  has  gone  from  worse  to  worse,"  he 
thought.  ''One  shining  point,  then,  in  the  distance, 
in  the  beginning  of  life ;  and  then  all  growing  blacker 
and  blacker,  swifter  and  swifter,  in  inverse  proportion 
to  the  distance  from  death,"  thought  Ivan  Ilyitch. 

And  the  comparison  of  a  stone  falling  with  accel- 
erating rapidity  occurred  to  his  mind.  Life,  a  series  of 
increasing  tortures,  always  sped  swifter  and  swifter  to 
the  end,  —  the  most  horrible  torture.     "  I  am  flying." 

He  shuddered,  he  tossed,  he  wished  to  resist  it. 
But  he  already  knows  that  it  is  impossible  to  resist ; 
and  again,  with  eyes  weary  of  looking,  but  still  not  able 
to  resist  looking  at  what  was  before  him,  he  stares  at 
the  back  of  the  divan,  and  awaits,  awaits  this  frightful 
fall,  shock,  and  destruction. 

"It  is  impossible  to  resist,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  But  can  I  not  know  the  wherefore  of  it?  Even  that 
is  impossible.  It  might  be  explained  by  saying  that  I 
had  not  lived  as  I  ought.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
acknowledge  that,"  he  said  to  himself,  recollecting  all 

»  FirozhM, 


82  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

the  law-abidingness,  the  uprightness,  the  propriety  of 
his  life. 

"It  is  impossible  to  admit  that,"  he  said  to  himself, 
with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  as  though  some  one  were  to 
see  that  smile  of  his,  and  be  deceived  by  it. 

"  No  explanation !  torture,  death  .  .  .  why?" 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  83 


XI. 


Thus  passed  two  weeks.  In  these  weeks,  there 
occurred  an  event  desired  by  Ivan  Ilyitch  and  his  wife. 
Petrishchef  made  a  formal  proposal.  This  took  place 
in  the  evening.  On  the  next  day,  Praskovia  Feodor- 
ovna  went  to  her  husband,  meditating  in  what  way  to 
explain  to  him  Feodor  Petrovitch's  proposition  ;  but 
that  very  same  night,  a  change  for  the  worse  took  place 
in  IvAn  Ilyitch's  condition.  Praskovia  Feodorovna 
found  him  on  the  same  divan,  but  in  a  new  position. 
He  was  lying  on  his  back :  he  was  groaning,  and  look- 
ing straight  up  with  a  fixed  stare. 

She  began  to  speak  about  medicines.  He  turned  his 
glance  upon  her.  She  did  not  finish  saying  what  she 
had  begun,  so  great  was  the  hatred  against  her  ex- 
pressed in  that  look. 

"  For  Christ's  sake,  let  me  die  in  peace  !  "  said  he. 

She  wanted  to  gg  out ;  but  just  at  this  instant  the 
daughter  came  in,  and  came  near  to  wish  him  good- 
morning.  He  looked  at  his  daughter  as  he  had  looked 
at  his  wife,  and,  in  reply  to  her  questions  about  his 
health,  told  her  dryly  that  he  would  quickly  relieve 
them  all  of  his  presence.  Neither  mother  nor  daughter 
said  any  thing  more ;  but  they  sat  a  few  moments 
longer,  and  then  went  out. 

"What  are  we  to  blame  for?"  said  Liza  to  her 
mother.  ''As  if  we  had  made  him  so !  I  am  sorry 
for  papa,  but  why  should  he  torment  us?  " 


84  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCIL 

At  the  usual  time  the  doctor  came.  Ivdn  Iljntch 
answered  "  j^cs,"  "no,"  not  changing  his  expression 
of  exasperation  ;  and  at  last  he  said,  — 

"  Here,  you  know  that  you  don't  help  any,  so  leave 
me!" 

"  We  can  appease  your  sufferings,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  You  cannot  even  do  that :  leave  me  !  " 

The  doctor  went  into  the  sitting-room,  and  advised 
Praskovia  Feodorovna  that  it  was  very  serious,  and  that 
there  was  only  one  means  —  opium  —  of  appeasing  his 
sufferings,  which  must  be  terrible. 

The  doctor  said  that  his  physical  sufferings  were  ter- 
rible, and  this  was  true ;  but  more  terrible  than  his 
physical  sufferings  were'  his  moral  sufferings,  and  in 
this  was  his  chief  torment. 

His  moral  sufferings  consisted  in  the  fact  that  that 
very  night,  as  he  looked  at  Gerasim's  sleepy,  benevolent 
face,  with  its  high  cheek-bones,  it  had  suddenly  come 
into  his  head,  "  But  how  is  it  if  in  reality  ray  whole 
life,  my  conscious  life,  has  been  wrong?  "  ^ 

It  came  into  his  head  that  what  had  shortly  before 
presented  itself  to  him  as  an  absolute  impossibility,  — 
that  he  had  not  lived  his  life  as  he  ought,  —  might  be 
true.  It  came  into  his  head  that  the  scarcely  recogniz- 
able, desires  to  struggle  against  what  men  highest  in 
position  considered  good,  —  desires  scarcely  recogniz- 
able, which  he  had  immediately  banished,  —  might  be 
true,  and  all  the  rest  might  be  w^'ong.  And  his  ser- 
vice, and  his  course  of  life,  and  his  family,  and  these 
interests  of  society,  and  office  —  all  this  might  be  false. 

He  endeavored  to  defend  all  this  before  himself. 
And  suddeul}'  he  realized  all  the  weakness  of  what  he 
was  defendins.     And  there  was  nothing  to  defend. 


Nyi  to. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  85 

*'  But  if  this  is  so,"  he  said  to  himself,  ''  and  I  am 
departing  from  life  with  the  consciousness  that  I  have 
wasted  all  that  was  given  me,  and  that  it  is  impossible 
to  rectify  it,  what  then?  " 

He  lay  flat  on  his  back,  and  began  entirely  anew  to 
examine  his  whole  life. 

When  in  the  morning  he  saw  the  lackey,  then  his  wife, 
then  his  daughter,  then  the  doctor,  each  one  of  their 
motions,  each  one  of  their  words,  confirmed  for  him  the 
terrible  truth  which  had  been  disclosed  to  him  that  night. 
He  saw  in  them  himself,  all  that  for  which  he  had  lived  ; 
and  he  saw  clearly  that  all  this  was  wrong,  all  this  was  a 
terrible,  monstrous  lie,  concealing  both  life  and  death. 

This  consciousness  increased,  added  tenfold  to,  his 
physical  sufferings.  He  groaned  and  tossed,  and  threw 
off  the  clothes.  It  seemed  to  him  that  they  choked 
him,  and  loaded  him  down. 

And  this  is  why  he  detested  them. 

They  gave  him  a  great  dose  of  opium :  he  became 
unconscious,  but  at  dinner-time  the  same  thing  began 
again.  He  drove  them  from  him,  and  threw  himself 
from  place  to  place. 

His  wife  came  to  him,  and  said,  "  Jean,  darling,^ 
do  this  for  me  {for  me !) .  It  cannot  do  any  harm,  and 
sometimes  it  helps.  It  is  a  mere  nothing,  3'ou  see. 
And  often  well  people  try  it." 

He  opci^ed  his  eyes  wide. 

''What?  Take  the  sacrament?  Why?  It's  not 
necessary.     But,  however  "... 

She  burst  into  tears. 

"  Will  you,  my  dear?  I  will  get  our  priest.  He  is 
so  sweet !  " 

''Excellent!  very  good,"  he  continued. 

1  Galubchik  ;  literally,  little  pigeon. 


86  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH. 

When  the  priest  came,  and  confessed  him,  he  became 
calmer,  felt,  as  it  were,  an  alleviation  of  his  doubts, 
and  consequently  of  his  sufferings ;  and  there  came  a 
moment  of  hope.  He  again  began  to  think  about  the 
blind  intestine  and  the  possibility  of  curing  it.  He 
took  the  sacrament  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

When  they  put  him  to  bed  after  the  sacrament,  he 
felt  comfortable  for  the  moment,  and  once  more  hope 
of  life  appeared.  He  began  to  think  of  the  operation 
which  they  had  proposed. 

"  I  want  to  live,  to  live,"  he  said  to  himself. 

His  wife  came  to  congratulate  him.  She  said  the 
customaiy  words,  and  added,  — 

"  You  feel  better,  don't  you?  " 

Without  looking  at  her,  he  said,  — 

^^Yes." 

Her  hope,  her  temperament,  the  expression  of  her 
face,  the  sound  of  her  voice,  all  said  to  him  one  thing,  — 

"Wrong!  all  that  for  which  thou  hast  lived,  and 
thou  livest,  is  falsehood,  deception,  hiding  from  thee 
life  and  death." 

And  as  soon  as  he  expressed  this  thought,  his  exas- 
peration returned,  and,  together  with  his  exasperation, 
the  phj^sical,  tormenting  agony;  and  with  the  agony, 
the  consciousness  of  inevitable  death  close  at  hand. 
Something  new  took  place :  it  seamed  as  if  a  screw, 
were  being  driven  into  him,  as  if  a  shot  were  fired  at 
him,  and  his  breathing  was  constricted. 

The  expression  of  his  face,  when  he  said  "yes," 
was  terrible.  After  he  had  said  that  '^  yes,"  he  looked 
straight  into  her  face,  and  then  threw  himself  on  his 
face  with  extraordinary  quickness  for  one  in  his  weak 
state,  and  cried,  — 

"  Go  away !  go  away  !  leave  me  ! " 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  87 


XII. 


From  that  moment  began  that  shriek  that  did  not 
cease  for  three  days,  and  was  so  terrible,  that,  when  it 
was  heard  two  rooms  away,  it  was  impossible  to  hear  it 
without  terror.  At  the  moment  that  he  answered  his 
wife,  he  felt  that  he  was  lost,  that  there  was  no  return, 
that  the  end  had  come,  absolutely  the  end,  and  the 
question  was  not  settled,  but  remained  a  question. 

"  U  !  uu  !  u  !  "  he  cried  in  varying  intonations.  He 
began  to  shriek,  '''N'y4khotchu''  (''I  won't");  and 
thus  he  kept  up  the  cry  on  the  letter  u. 

Three  whole  days,  during  which  for  him  there  was 
no  time,  he  struggled  in  that  black  sack  wherein  an  in- 
visible, invincible  power  was  thrusting  him.  He  fought 
as  one  condemned  to  death  fights  in  the  hands  of  the 
hangman,  knowing  that  he  cannot  save  himself,  and  at 
every  moment  he  felt,  that,  notwithstandhig  all  the  vio- 
lence of  his  struggle,  he  was  nearer  and  nearer  to  that 
which  terrified  him.  He  felt  that  his  suffering  con- 
sisted, both  in  the  fact  that  he  was  being  thrust  into 
that  black  hole,  and  still  more  that  he  could  not  make 
his  way  through  into  it.  What  hindered  him  from 
making  his  way  through  was  the  confession  that  his 
life  had  been  good.  This  justification  of  his  life  caught 
him,  and  did  not  let  him  advance,  and  above  all  tor- 
mented him. 

Suddenly  some  force  knocked  him  in  the  breast,  in 
the  side,  still  more  forcibly  compressed  his  breath  :  he 


88  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN   ILYITCH. 

was  hurled  through  the  hole,  and  there  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hole  some  light  seemed  to  shine  upon  him.  It 
happened  to  him  as  it  sometimes  does  on  a  railway 
carriage  when  you  think  that  3^ou  are  going  forwaid, 
but  are  really  going  backward,  and  suddenly  recognize 
the  true  direction. 

"Yes,  all  was  wrong,"  ^  he  said  to  himself;  "  but 
that  is  nothing.  I  might,  I  might  have  done  right. 
What  is  right  (io)  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  and  suddenly 
stopped. 

This  was  at  the  end  of  the  third  day,  at  the  hour  of 
his  death.  At  this  very  same  time  the  little  student'^ 
noiselessly  stole  into  his  father's  room,  and  approached 
his  bed.  The  moribund  was  continually  shrieking  des- 
perately, and  tossing  his  arms.  His  hand  struck  upon 
the  little  student's  head.  The  little  student  seized  it, 
pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  burst  into  tears. 

It  was  at  this  very  same  time  that  Ivdn  Ilyitch  fell 
through,  saw  the  light,  and  it  was  revealed  to  him  that 
bis  life  had  not  been  as  it  ought,  but  that  still  it  was 
possible  to  repair  it.  He  was  just  asking  himself 
*' What  is  right?"  "and  stopped  to  listen.  Then  he 
felt  that  some  one  was  kissing  his  hand.  He  opened 
his  eyes,  and  looked  at  his  son.  He  felt  sorry  for  him. 
His  wife  came  to  him.  He  looked  at  her.  With  open 
mouth,  and  with  her  nose  and  cheeks  wet  with  tears, 
with  an  expression  of  despair,  she  was  looking  at  him. 
He  felt  sorry  for  her. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  torment  to  them,"  he  thought.  "  I 
am  sorry  for  them,  but  they  will  be  better  off  when 
I  am  dead." 

He  wanted  to  express  this,  but  he  had  not  the 
strength  to  say  it. 

^it^yeto.  2  Gimnaaistik. 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  ILYITCH.  89 

*'  However,  why  should  I  sa}'  it?     I  must  do  it.'* 

He  pointed  out  his  son  to  his  wife  by  a  glance,  and 
said,  '^  Take  him  away.  .  .  .  I  am  sorry  .  .  .  and  for 
thee.'* 

He  wanted  to  say  also,  "  Prosti  "  ("Forgive  "),  but 
he  said  ^^  Propusti  "  ("  Let  it  pass  ");  and,  not  having 
the  strength  to  correct  himself,  he  waved  his  hand, 
knowing  that  he  would  comprehend  who  had  the  right. 

And  suddenly  it  became  clear  to  him,  that  what  op- 
pressed him,  and  was  hidden  from  him,  suddenly  was 
lighted  up  for  him  all  at  once,  and  on  two  sides,  on  ten 
sides,  on  all  sides. 

He  felt  sorry  for  them  :  he  felt  that  he  must  do  some- 
thing to  make  it  less  painful  for  them.  To  free  them, 
and  free  himself,  from  these  torments,  ''  How  good  and 
how  simple  !  "  he  thought. 

"  But  the  pain,"  he  asked  himself,  "  where  is  it?  — 
Here,  now,^  where  art  thou,  pain?" 

He  began  to  listen.  "  Yes,  here  it  is !  Well,  then,^ 
do  your  worst,  pain  !  " 

"  And  death?  where  is  it?  " 

He  tried  to  find  his  former  customary  fear  of  death, 
and  could  not. 
.  "  Where  is  death ?     What  is  it?  " 

There  was  no  fear,  because  there  was  no  death. 

In  place  of  death  was  light ! 

"  Here  is  something  like  !  "  he  suddenly  said  aloud. 
"What  joy!" 

For  him  all  this  passed  in  a  single  instant,  and  the 
significance  of  this  instant  did  not  vary. 

For  those  who  stood  by  his  side,  his  death-agony  was 
prolonged  two  hours  more.  In  his  breast  something 
bubbled   up,  his   emaciated   body   shuddered.      Then 

*^«  ka,  *  iV^w  chtozh. 


90  THE  DEATH  OF  IVAN  TLYTTCH. 

more  and  more  rarely  came  the  bubbling  and  the  rat- 
tling.    "  It  is  all  over,"  said  some  one  above  him. 

He  heard  these  words,  and  repeated  them  in  his  soul. 

*'  It  is  over  !  death  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  It  does 
not  exist  more."  He  drew  in  one  more  breath,  stopped 
in  the  midst,  stretched  himself,  and  died. 


IF  YOU  NEGLECT    THE  FIRE,  YOU 
DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT. 


"Then  came  Peter  to  him,  and  said,  Lord,  how  oft  shall  my  brother  sin 
against  me,  and  I  forgive  hira?   till  seven  times? 

Jesus  saitb  unto  him,  I  say  not  unto  thee,  Until  seven  times:  but,  Until 
seventy  times  seven. 

Therefore  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  liltened  unto  a  certain  king,  which 
would  take  account  of  his  servants. 

And  when  he  had  begun  to  reckon,  one  was  brought  unto  him,  which 
owed  him  ten  thousand  talents. 

But  forasmuch  as  he  had  not  to  pay,  his  lord  commanded  hira  to'be  sold, 
and  his  wife,  and  children,  and  all  that  he  had,  and  payment  to  be  made. 

The  servant  therefore  fell  down,  and  worshipped  him,  saying.  Lord,  liave 
patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all. 

Then  the  lord  of  that  servant  was  moved  with  compassion,  and  loosed 
him,  and  forgave  him  the  debt. 

But  the  same  servant  went  out,  and  found  one  of  his  fellowservants, 
which  owed  liim  an  hundred  pence :  and  he  laid  iiands  on  him,  and  took  him 
by  the  throat,  saying.  Pay  me  that  thou  owest. 

And  his  fellowservant  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and  besought  him,  saying, 
Have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  ail. 

And  he  would  not :  but  went  and  ca^t  him  into  prison,  till  he  should  pay 
the  debt. 

So  when  his  fellowservants  saw  what  was  done,  they  were  very  sorry, 
and  came  and  told  unto  their  lord  all  that  was  done. 

Then  his  lord,  after  that  he  had  called  him,  said  unto  him,  O  thou  wicked 
servant,  I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt,  because  thou  deslredst  me  : 

Shouldest  not  thou  also  have  had  compassion  on  thy  fellowservant  even 
as  I  had  pity  on  thee? 

And  his  lord  was  wroth,  and  delivered  him  to  the  tormentors,  till  he 
should  pay  all  that  was  due  unto  him. 

So  likewise  shall  my  heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your 
hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses."  —  Matt,  xviii. 
21-35. 

Ivan  Shcherbakof,  a  peasant,  lived  in  the  country. 
He  lived  well.  He  had  perfect  health,  he  was  the  best 
workman  in  the  village,  and  he  had  three  sons  grown 


92  IF   YOU  NEGLECT   THE   FIRE, 

up :  one  was  married,  one  was  engaged,  and  the  third 
was  a  lad  who  was  just  beginning  to  tend  the  horses  and 
plough.  His  old  wife,  Ivanova,  was  a  clever  6«6a,  and 
a  good  housekeeper ;  and  the  daughter-in-law  was 
peaceful  and  industrious.  All  that  Ivan  had  to  do 
was  to  live  with  his  family.  The  only  idle  mouth  in 
his  household  was  his  infirm  old  fatlier.  (For  six 
years  he  had  been  lying  on  the  oven,  suffering  from 
asthma.)  Ivdn  had  plenty  of  everj'  thing:  he  had 
three  horses  and  a  colt,  a  cow  with  a  calf,  and  fifteen 
sheep.  The  babas  not  only  mended  their  husbands* 
clothes,  but  made  them,  and  also  worked  in  the  field : 
the  muzhiks  worked  like  true  i)easants.  The  old  grain 
held  out  till  the  new  came.  They  paid  their  taxes,  and 
supplied  all  their  necessities,  with  their  oat-crop.  All 
Ivdn  had  to  do  was  to  live  with  his  children. 

But  in  the  next  dvor  lived  Ivdn's  neighbor,  Gavrilo, 
a  cripple,  the  son  of  Gordyei  Ivanof.  And  a  quarrel 
arose  between  them. 

As  long  as  the  old  Gordyei*  was  alive,  and  Ivan's 
father  was  manager,  the  muzhiks  lived  like  exemplary 
neighbors.  If  the  babas  needed  a  sifter  or  a  tub,  or 
the  muzhiks  needed  a  corn-cloth  or  a  new  wheel,  they 
would  send  from  one  yard  to  the  other,  and,  like  good 
neighbors,  accommodate  each  other.  If  a  calf  broke 
into  the  threshing-floor,  they  would  drive  it  out,  and 
only  say,  '"  Look  out,  don't  let  him  come  in  again  :  we 
have  not  moved  the  corn  yet."  But  as  for  hiding  or 
locking  things  up,  either  the  threshing-floor  or  the  shed, 
or  quarrelling,  such  things  never  happened. 

Thus  they  got  along  while  the  old  folks  were  alive. 
But  when  the  next  generation  took  the  reins,  a  new 
state  of  things  came  about. 

The  whole  trouble  arose  from  a  trifle. 


YOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT,  93 

A  little  hen  belonging  to  Ivan's  daughter-in-law  took 
to  laying  early  in  the  season.  The  young  wife  began 
to  collect  the  eggs  for  Easter.  Every  day  she  went 
after  the  eggs  to  the  wagon-box  that  stood  in  the  shed. 
But  the  children,  it  seems,  scared  the  hen,  which  flew 
over  the  fence  into  the  neighbor's  yard,  and  there  began 
to  lay.  The  young  woman  heard  the  little  hen  cack- 
ling:  she  thinks,  "  I  haven't  time  now:  I  must  clean 
up  the  izbd  ^  against  the  holidays.  I'll  go  and  get  it 
by  and  by.  In  the  evening  she  went  to  the  shed,  to 
the  wagon-box  :  not  a  sign  of  an  egg.  The  moloddika 
began  to  ask  her  mother-in-law  and  her  brother-in-law 
if  they  had  taken  any  oat:  '' No,"  say  they,  **  we 
haven't."  But  Taraska,  the  smallest  brother-in-law, 
says, — 

'^  Your  bantam  has  been  laying  over  in  the  next  yard. 
She  was  cackling  over  there,  and  she  came  flying  back 
from  there." 

And  the  molodd'ika  looked  at  her  bantam :  she  was 
sitting  next  the  cockerel  on  the  roost ;  her  eyes  were 
already  shut ;  she  was  just  going  to  sleep.  And  she 
would  have  asked  her  where  she  had  been  laying,  if  the 
hen  could  only  have  answered.  And  the  moloddika 
went  over  to  her  neighbors.  The  old  woman  came  to 
the  door. 

*'  What  do  you  want,  molodka?" 

'^Well,"  says  she,  "bdushka,^  my  little  bantam  flew 
over  into  your  yard  to  day.  I  wonder  if  she  didn't  lay 
an  egg  ?  '  * 

"  We  haven't  seen  it  at  all.  Our  own  hens,  thank 
God,  have  been  laying  this  long  time.  We  gathered 
up  our  own,  but  we  don't  need  other  folks's.     We,  my 

*  Peasant's  cottage. 

3  BauBbka,  fur  babushka,  old  woman  or  grandmother. 


94  IF   YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

little  girl,  never  go  into  strangers'  yards  to  collect 
eggs." 

This  was  an  insult  to  the  moloddika ;  she  said 
things  that  she  ought  not :  the  neighbor  replied  in  the 
same  way,  and  the  babas  began  to  berate  each  other. 
Ivanof's  wife  came  out  after  water,  and  she  also  put 
in  her  woixi.  Gavrilo's  wife  rushed  out  of  the  room, 
began  to  blame  her  neighbor :  she  recalled  things  that 
had  happened,  and  added  things  that  had  never  hap- 
pened.    A  regular  thunder-storm  ensued. 

All  screamed  at  once,  and  tried  to  say  two  words  at  a 
time.  Yes,  and  the  words  were  all  bad  :  "  You  are  such 
and  such,"  "3'ou  are  a  thief,"  "you  are  a  trollop," 
"  you  starve  your  old  father-in-law, "  * ' you  are  a  beast.' * 

''And  you  mean  little  beggar  that  you  are,  you  made 
a  hole  in  my  sieve  !  "  —  "  And  j'ou've  got  our  bucket- 
yoke.^  I  want  it  back  again."  They  caught  hold  of 
the  bucket-yoke,  spilt  the  water,  tore  off  each  other's 
shawls,  and  began  to  fight. 

Just  here  Gavrilo  came  in  from  the  field,  and  took 
his  baba's  part.  Ivdn  and  his  son  rushed  over,  and 
they  all  fell  in  a  heap.  Ivdn  was  a  strong  muzhik, 
and  threw  them  all  in  different  directions.  He  tore  out 
a  handful  of  Gavrilo's  whiskers.  A  crowd  collected, 
and  it  was  hard  to  separate  them. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  it. 

Gavrilo  wrapped  up  his  bunch  of  whiskers  in  a  piece 
of  writing-paper,  and  brought  suit  in  the  district  court. 

"  I  did  not  grow  it,"  says  he,  "  for  the  sake  of  let- 
ting that  pigheaded  Vdnka  pull  it  out." 

And  his  wife  kept  telling  her  neighbors  that  now  they 
would  get  Ivdn  into  a  scrape,  send  him  to  Siberia ;  and 
so  the  quarrel  went  on. 

^KoromuiHlo,  the  yoke  which  is  used  for  carrying  water. 


rOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  95 

From  the  very  first  day  the  old  man,  as  he  lay  on  the 
oven,  tried  to  pacify  them  ;  but  the  young  people  would 
not  listen  to  him.     He  said  to  them,  — 

*'  Children,  you  are  acting  foolishly  ;  and  it  was  from 
a  piece  of  foolishness  that  the  whole  thing  started. 
Just  think,  the  whole  trouble  is  about  an  egg !  Sup- 
pose the  children  did  pick  up  the  little  egg.  Why,  let 
them  have  it.^  One  egg  isn't  worth  much.  God  has 
plenty  for  all.  Well,  suppose  she  did  say  a  bad  word ; 
you  ought  to  have  corrected  it;  you  ought  to  have 
taught  her  to  say  better  things.  Well,  you've  had 
your  fight  —  we  are  all  sinners!  Such  things  happen. 
Now  go  and  make  it  up,  and  all  will  be  forgotten ! 
But,  if  you  act  out  of  spite,  things  will  go  from  bad 
to  worse  for  you." 

The  younger  ones  did  not  listen :  they  thought  the 
old  man  was  talking  nonsense,  and  was  only  grumbling, 
as  old  men  are  apt  to  do. 

Ivdn  did  not  give  in  to  his  neighbor. 

''  I  did  not  pull  his  whiskers,"  says  he,  "  he  pulled 
them  himself ;  but  his  son  tore  out  all  my  eye-hooks, 
and  tore  the  shirt  off  my  back.     Just  look  at  it !  " 

And  Ivdn  also  went  to  court.  The  case  was  tried 
before  the  magistrate  and  at  the  district  court.  While 
they  were  at  law,  a  bolt  was  missing  from  Gavrilo's 
tely^ga.  Gavrilo's  babas  accused  Ivdn's  son  of  steal- 
ing it. 

**  We  ourselves  saw  him  go  by  the  window,"  they 
said,  "  on  his  way  to  the  tely^ga ;  and  the  godmother 
said  that  he  stopped  at  the  tavern,  and  tried  to  sell  the 
bolt  to  the  tavern-keeper." 

Another  suit  was  begun  ;  and  at  home  every  day,  there 
was  a  new  quarrel,  a  new  fight.      The  little  children, 

»  LiteraUy,  "  ^m/    God  be  with  them ! '» 


96  IF   YOU  l^EGLECT  TEE  FIRE, 

imitating  their  elders,  quarrelled ;  and  the  babas,  when 
they  met  at  the  river,  did  not  pound  so  much  with  their 
paddles  as  they  clacked  with  theh*  tongues,  and  all  to 
no  good. 

At  first  the  muzhiks  only  accused  each  other,  but  in 
course  of  time  they  actually  began  to  steal  whatever 
happened  to  be  \y\ng  round.  And  the  women  and 
children  also  learned  to  do  the  same.  Their  lives  grew 
constantly-  worse  and  worse. 

Ivdn  Shcherbakof  and  Gavrilo  the  cripple  had  their 
cases  tried  before  the  commune,  and  in  the  district 
court,  and  before  the  justice  of  the  peace,  until  all  the 
judges  were  weary  of  it :  either  Gavrilo  had  Ivan  fined 
and  put  into  jail,  or  Ivdn  would  do  the  same  to  Gavrilo. 
And  the  more  harm  they  did  to  each  other,  the  angrier 
they  became.  When  dogs  get  to  fighting,  the  more 
the}'  tear  each  other,  the  more  desperate  they  become. 
If  some  one  pounds  the  dog  from  behind,  he  thinks  it 
is  the  other  dog  that  is  biting,  and  grows  madder  still. 
So  it  was  with  these  muzhiks.  They  went  ahead  with 
their  lawsuits  :  either  one  or  the  other  would  get  pun- 
ished by  fine  or  arrest ;  and  for  all  that,  their  hearts 
were  filled  with  still  greater  hatred. 

"  Just  wait !  I'll  get  even  with  you  yet !  " 

Thus  their  affairs  dragged  on  for  six  years.  Still 
the  old  man  on  the  oven  kept  saying  the  same  thing. 
He  used  to  try  to  reason  with  them :  — 

"What  are  3'ou  doing,  children?  Drop  all  these 
doings ;  don't  neglect  your  business,  and  don't  bear 
malice ;  it  will  be  much  better.  For  the  angrier  you 
get,  the  worse  it  becomes." 

They  pay  no  attention  to  the  old  man. 

On  the  seventh  year  it  came  to  pass  that  at  a  wed- 
ding, Ivdn's  daughter-in-law  insulted  Gavrilo  in  the 


YOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  97 

presence  of  the  people.  She  began  to  accuse  him  of 
horse-stealing.  Gavrllo  was  drunk  ;  he  could  not  con- 
trol his  temper,  and  he  struck  the  baba ;  he  hit  her  so 
hard  that  she  was  confined  to  her  bed  for  a  whole 
week,  for  she  was  a  rather  stout  baba.  Iv^n  was  glad 
of  the  occurrence,  and  he  went  for  a  warrant  at  the 
magistrate's. 

'^  Now,"  thinks  he,  "I  shall  square  accounts  with 
my  neighbor:  he  shall  not  escape  prison  or  Siberia." 
But  again  IvAn  lost  his  case.  The  magistrate  did  not 
accept  his  petition  :  the  baba  was  examined  ;  when  the 
baba  got  up,  there  were  no  marks  at  all  on  her.  Ivan 
went  to  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  the  latter  trans- 
ferred the  case  to  the  district  court.  Ivdn  began  to 
bother  the  volost :  he  drank  up  two  or  three  gallons  of 
mead  with  the  secretary  and  the  elder, ^  and  he  succeeded 
in  having  Gavrilo  sentenced  to  be  whipped.  They  read 
the  sentence  to  Gavrilo  in  court.  The  secretary  read 
it:  — 

"The  court  has  decided  that  the  peasant  Gavrilo 
Gordy6ef  is  to  be  punished  with  twenty  lashes  in  pres- 
ence of  the  court." 

IvAn  also  listens  to  the  sentence,  and  looks  at  Ga- 
vrilo :  —  "  Now,  what  will  become  of  him?  "  Gavrilo 
listened  to  it,  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet,  turned  around, 
and  went  out  into  the  ante-chamber.  Iv^n  followed 
him,  started  to  go  to  his  horse ;  but  he  heard  Gavrilo 
saying,  — 

"  All  right,"  says  he  :  "  he  will  lash  my  back  ;  it  will 
burn  :  but  something  worse  may  happen  to  him." 

Ivdn  heard  these  words,  and  immediately  turned  to 
the  judges. 

*'Just  judges!  he  has  threatened  to  set  my  house 

1  Starshind. 


98  JF   YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

on  fire!      Listen:  he  said  it  in  the  presence  of  wit- 


nesses 


Gavrilo  was  called  back. 

"Is  it  true  you  said  so?  '* 

"  I  said  nothing.  Lash  me,  since  you  have  the  power. 
It  seems  that  I  am  the  only  one  to  suffer,  though  I  am 
right ;  but  he's  allowed  to  do  any  thing." 

Gavrilo  wanted  to  say  more,  but  his  lips  and  cheeks 
began  to  tremble.  And  he  turned  his  face  to  the  par- 
tition. Even  the  judges  were  ft-ightened  as  they  looked 
at  Gavrilo.  "  Now,"  they  think,  "  suppose  he  actually 
makes  up  his  mind  to  do  some  harm  to  his  neighbor  or 
himself."     And  the  little  old  judge  began  to  speak  :  — 

"  See  here,  brothers  !  you  had  better  make  up  your 
minds  to  become  friends  again.  You,  brother  Gavrilo, 
did  you  do  right  in  striking  the  stout  baba?  It  is  for- 
tunate for  you  that  God  spared  her,  else  what  a  sin 
you  would  have  committed.  Was  it  right?  Confess, 
and  ask  his  pardon,  and  he  will  forgive  you.  Then 
we'll  change  the  sentence." 

When  the  secretary  heard  it,  he  said,  "  This  cannot 
be  done,  because,  according  to  the  117th  article,  there 
was  no  peaceful  settlement ;  but  the  judge's  sentence 
was  passed,  and  the  sentence  must  be  carried  out." 

But  the  judge  did  not  heed  the  secretary.  "Your 
tongue  has  itched  to  speak  long  enough.  There  is  only 
one  article,  and  that  is  the  first.  Remember  God ;  and 
God  has  commanded  that  you  become  reconciled.'* 
And  again  the  judge  tried  to  persuade  the  muzhiks, 
but  his  words  were  in  vain.  Gavrilo  paid  no  heed  to 
his  words. 

"  I  am  almost  fifty  years  old,"  he  says.  "  I  have  a 
married  son,  and  I  was  never  beaten  in  all  my  life  ;  but 
now  this  pig-headed  Vanka  has  brought  me  under  the 


YOU   DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  99 

lash,  and  yet  I  am  to  ask  his  forgiveness,  am  I  ?  Well  — 
it  will  —  let  Vanka  look  out  for  me  !  '* 

Gavrilo's  voice  trembled  again :  he  could  talk  no 
longer.     He  turned  around  and  went  out. 

It  was  ten  versts  from  the  court-house  to  the  door, 
and  it  was  lute  when  Ivan  went  home.  The  babas  had 
already  gone  to  get  the  cattle.  He  unharnessed  his 
horses,  put  things  away,  and  went  into  the  house. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  izba.  The  children  had  not 
yet  returned  from  the  field,  and  the  babas  were  after 
the  cattle.  Ivdn  went  in,  sat  down  on  the  bench,  and 
became  lost  in  thought. 

He  remembered  how  the  sentence  was  read  to  Ga- 
vrilo,  and  how  he  turned  pale,  and  faced  the  partition ; 
and  his  heart  felt  oppressed.  He  imagined  himself  in 
the  same  position,  about  to  receive  the  punishment  of 
lashes.  And  he  began  to  pity  Gavrilo.  And  he  heard 
the  old  man  coughing  on  the  oven,  then  shifting  from 
side  to  side,  stretching  out  his  legs,  and  then  clamber- 
ing down  to  the  floor.  The  old  man  clambered  down, 
dragged  himself  to  the  bench,  and  sat  down.  The  old 
man  found  it  hard  to  drag  himself  to  the  bench  ;  he 
coughed  and  coughed ;  and  when  his  coughing-fit 
was  over,  he  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and 
says,  — 

''  Well,  was  he  sentenced?  " 

Ivdn  saj^s,  — 

"Sentenced  to  twenty  lashes.'* 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"You  are  doing  wrong,  Ivdn!'*  says  he.  "Akh! 
wrong !  Not  to  him,  but  to  yourself,  yow  are  doing 
wrong.  Now,  suppose  they  lash  his  back :  will  it  do 
you  any  good?  " 

"  He  won't  do  it  any  more,"  said  Ivdn. 


100  IF  YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

"What  won't  he  do  an}'-  more?  Is  he  doing  any 
thing  worse  than  you  do?  " 

''  Do  j^ou  want  to  know  what  he  has  done  to  me?  " 
asked  Ivdn.  "  Why,  he  nearly  killed  the  baba,  and 
even  now  he  threatened  to  set  the  house  on  fire ! 
Why  must  I  beg  his  pardon  for  it?  " 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  said,  — 

"This  whole  free  world  is  open  for  you,  Ivdn,  to  come 
and  go  upon;  and  because  I  have  been  lying  on  the 
oven  for  these  last  few  years,  you  must  think  that  3'ou 
see  all,  and  I  see  nothing.  No,  young  man,  you  see 
nothing  at  all :  anger  has  blinded  your  eyes.  The  faults 
of  others  are  before  you,  but  your  own  are  behind  your 
back.  You  say  he  did  wrong  :  if  he  were  the  only  man 
to  do  wrong,  then  there  would  be  no  wickedness  in  the 
world.  Does  wrong  arise  among  people  on  account  of 
one  man?  There  must  be  two  in  a  quarrel.  You  can 
see  his  sins,  but  you  can't  see  your  own.  Had  he  been 
the  only  one  to  do  wrong,  and  you  had  done  right,  there 
would  have  been  no  quarrel.  Who  pulled  out  his  beard  ? 
Who  threw  down  his  hay-rick?  Who  dragged  him 
around  in  the  courts?  And  yet  you  blame  him  for  every 
thing  !  Your  own  life  is  wrong,  and  that  is  bad.  That 
isn't  the  way  I  used  to  live,  brother:  that  isn't  what 
I  taught  you.  Is  that  the  way  that  the  old  man  —  his 
father  —  and  I  used  to  live?  How  did  we  live?  Like 
good  neighbors.  If  he  was  out  of  flour,  the  baba  would 
come  —  '  Uncle  Frol,  we  are  out  of  flour.'  —  ••  Just  go 
to  the  closet,  young  woman,  and  get  what  you  need." 
He  had  no  one  to  tend  to  the  horses  —  ^  Go,  Vanyatka,^ 
and  take  care  of  his  horses.'  And  whatever  I  am  short 
of,  I  go  to  him  —  '  Uncle  Gordy^i,  I  need  such  and  such 
a  thing.'  —  '  Take  it,  uncle  Frol !  '    And  so  it  used  to 

1  Diminished  diminutive  of  Ivan. 


YOU   DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  101 

go  with  us.  And  it  used  to  be  the  same  nice  way  with 
you.  And  how  is  it  now?  Now,  a  soldier  was  telling 
about  Plevna  :  well,  your  quarrel  is  worse  than  that  of 
Plevna.  Is  this  living?  It's  a  sin  !  You  are  a  muzhik, 
you  are  master  of  a  house.  You  will  have  to  answer 
for  it.  What  are  you  teaching  your  babas  and  children 
to  do  ?  To  fight  like  dogs  !  The  other  day,  Taraska, 
that  dirty-nosed  i-ascal,  was  abusing  aunt  Arina  and  her 
mother's  memory,  and  his  own  mother  was  enjoying 
it.  Is  that  good?  You'll  have  to  answer  for  it.  Just 
think  about  your  soul.  Ought  things  to  go  on  this 
way  ?  You  give  me  a  word  —  I  give  you  two  back : 
you  give  me  a  slap  —  I  give  back  two.  No,  my 
dear.  Christ  went  about  on  earth,  but  he  did  not 
teach  us  fools  such  things.  If  a  word  is  said  to  you, 
hold  your  peace  :  his  own  conscience  will  accuse  him. 
That  is  the  way  he  taught  us,  bdtiushka.  If  any  one 
slap  you,  turn  the  other  cheek :  '  Here,  strike,  if  I 
am  worth  it.'  And  his  conscience  will  prick  him. 
He  will  be  disarmed,  and  will  hear  what  you  have  to 
say.  That  is  the  wa}^  He  commanded  us,  but  not  to 
be  stiff-necked.  Why  don't  you  say  something?  am 
I  not  telling  you  tiie  truth?  " 

Ivan  is  silent  —  he  is  listening. 

The  old  man  had  a  fit  of  coughing ;  raised  some 
phlegm,  and  began  to  speak  again. 

*'  Do  you  think  that  what  Christ  taught  us  is  wrong? 
It  was  intended  for  us  for  our  good.  Think  about 
your  earthly  life :  has  it  been  good,  or  bad,  for  you 
since  this  Plevna  began  between  you?  Just  count  up 
how  much  3'ou  have  lost  by  these  lawsuits,  your  travel- 
ling expenses,  and  all  you  have  spent  in  eating.  Those 
sons  of  yours  are  growing  like  young  eagles  :  you  ought 
to  be  living  and  enjoying  life,  and  '  climb  the  mountain  ; ' 


102  IF   YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

and  here  you  are  losing  what  you  have !  And  why  is 
it?  It  is  all  for  nothing  !  All  because  of  your  pride  ! 
You  ought  to  go  with  your  children,  and  work  in  the 
field,  and  do  the  planting  yourself  ;  but  the  Devil  drives 
you  off,  either  to  the  judge  or  to  the  pettifogger.  You 
are  late  in  getting  up,  you  don't  plant  at  the  right  time, 
and  mdtushka  Earth  does  not  bring  forth  her  fruit. 
Why  were  there  no  oats  this  year  ?  When  did  you  sow 
them  ?  When  you  came  from  town !  And  what  did 
you  gain  ?  You  got  up  to  your  neck !  Ekh !  you 
foolish  fellow !  just  attend  to  business.  Work  with 
your  boys  in  the  field  and  in  the  house :  and  if  any  one 
insults  you,  then  forgive  them  in  God's  name  ;  and  you 
will  be  far  better  off,  and  your  heart  will  feel  much 
easier.'* 

Ivdn  said  nothing. 

"  Just  see  here,  Vanya  !  Listen  to  me  :  I  am  an  old 
man.  Go  and  harness  the  roan,  go  right  back  to  court 
again,  have  all  your  cases  dismissed,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing go  to  Gavrilo,  beg  his  forgiveness  in  God's  name, 
invite  him  to  the  house,  —  to-moiTow  is  a  holiday 
(this  happened  to  be  Christmas  Eve),  —  light  the  sam- 
ovarchik,^  bring  out  a  bottle,  and  clear  up  all  the  sins 
so  that  they  may  not  happen  again,  and  tell  the  babas 
and  the  children  to  do  the  same." 

Ivdn  sighed,  and  thinks,  '^  The  old  man  says  right," 
and  his  heart  softened :  only  he  does  not  know  how  to 
begin,  how  to  become  reconciled  now. 

And  the  old  man  began  again,  as  though  he  read  his 
thoughts. 

'*  Go  ahead,  Vanya !  don't  put  it  off.  Put  out  the 
fire  when  it  first  begins ;  but  when  it  burns  up,  it  is  haid 
to  do  it." 

>  Little  tea-urn. 


YOU   DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  103 

The  old  man  started  to  say  something  more,  but  he 
did  not  finish :  the  babas  came  into  the  izbd,  and  it 
sounded  like  a  convention  of  crows.  All  the  news 
had  reached  them,  —  how  Gavrilo  had  been  sentenced 
to  be  lashed,  and  how  he  had  threatened  to  set  their 
house  on  fire.  They  had  heard  every  thing,  and  they 
made  their  own  additions  ;  and  they  had  already  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  into  a  quarrel  with  Gavrilo's  babas, 
in  the  pasture. 

They  began  to  tell  how  Gavrilo's  daughter-in-law 
had  threatened  to  set  the  marshal  on  them.  The  mar- 
shal, it  seems,  takes  Gavrilo's  part.  He  will  reverse 
the  whole  case :  and  the  school-teacher,  it  seems,  had 
written  a  second  petition  to  the  tsar  himself,  against 
Ivdn,  and  put  in  the  petition  all  the  things,  about  the 
bolt,  and  about  the  garden,  and  half  of  the  farm  would 
now  be  given  to  them.  As  Ivdn  listened  to  their 
speeches,  his  heart  grew  hard  again,  and  he  changed 
his  mind  about  becoming  reconciled  with  Gavrilo. 

The  farmer  always  has  many  things  to  do  about  his 
dvor.  Ivdn  did  not  care  to  talk  to  the  babas,  so  he  got 
up  and  left  the  izbd :  he  went  to  the  threshing-floor 
and  to  the  shed.  Before  he  had  finished  his  work,  and 
returned  to  the  door,  the  little  sun  was  already  set :  the 
boys,  too,  had  come  in  from  the  field.  They  were  pre- 
paring to  plough  for  the  spring-corn.  Ivdn  met  them, 
asked  them  about  their  work ;  he  helped  them  put 
away  their  tools,  laid  aside  the  torn  horse-collar ;  he 
was  going  also  to  put  away  the  poles  under  the  shed, 
but  it  had  already  become  quite  dark. 

Ivdn  left  the  poles  till  the  next  daj',  but  he  fed  the 
cattle :  he  opened  the  gates,  and  let  Taraska  take  his 
horses  to  the  pasture  for  the  night,  and  shut  them  again, 
set  up  the  gate-pole.     ''Now  for  supper   and  bed," 


104  IF    YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

thought  Ivdn,  as  he  picked  up  the  torn  collar,  and  went 
into  the  izba. 

By  this  time  he  had  forgotten  all  about  Gavrilo,  and 
all  that  his  father  had  said  to  him.  He  had  scarcely 
taken  hold  of  the  door-knob,  and  entered  the  vestibule, 
when  he  heard  his  neighbor  from  behind  the  fence 
scolding  some  one  in  a  hoarse  voice.  ''Who  in  the 
Devil  is  Gavrilo  pitching  into  now?  " 

"He  ought  to  be  killed!  " 

When  IvAn  heard  these  words,  all  his  foraier  anger 
against  his  neighbor  arose  in  him.  He  stood  for  a 
while  and  listened  while  Gavrilo  was  scolding.  When 
Gavrilo  became  quiet,  Ivdn  went  into  the  izbd.  He 
entered  the  izba.  The  izbd  was  lighted  up.  The  molo- 
daika  was  sitting  in  one  corner  with  her  spinning- 
wheel,  the  old  woman  was  getting  supper,  the  oldest 
son  was  twisting  cloth  around  his  lapti.^  The  second 
one  was  sitting  by  the  table  with  a  little  book.  Taraska 
was  going  out  for  the  night. 

In  the  izbd,  all  had  been  pleasant,  comfortable,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  this  bad  neighbor. 

Ivdn  came  in  angry,  pushed  the  cat  from  the  bench, 
scolded  the  babas  because  the  slop-pail  wasn't  in  the 
right  place.  Ivdn  felt  blue ;  he  sat  down,  frowned, 
and  began  to  mend  the  horse-collar ;  and  Gavrilo's 
words  kept  rising  in  his  mind,  how  he  threatened  him 
at  court,  and  how  he  just  now  shouted  in  a  hoarse  voice 
about  some  one,  "  He  ought  to  be  killed !  " 

The  old  woman  prepared  supper  for  Taraska :  he  ate 
it,  put  on  his  sheep^skin  shubyonka,  his  kaftan,  put  on 

*  Lapti  are  the  wooden  sandals  worn  by  the  peasants  of  Great  Russia  and 
White  Russia  instead  of  boots;  the  leg  being  wrapped  up  in  rags  or  cloths, 
and  fastened  with  strings.  One  of  the  Russian  poets  sings,  ''Starania 
sapogi,  lapti  gidaiut ;  " —  "  Away  with  boots,  let  the  lapti  have  full  sway;" 
that  is,  the  peasant  will  sometime  have  his  share  in  the  world's  fun." 


YOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  105 

his  belt,  took  some  bread,  and  went  out  to  his  horses. 
Ilis  older  brother  intended  to  see  him  out ;  but  Ivdn 
rose,  and  went  to  the  front  steps.  It  was  already  dusky 
on  the  street ;  it  was  beginning  to  grow  quite  dark  ;  the 
clouds  covered  the  sky,  and  a  wind  sprung  up.  Ivdn 
descended  the  steps,  helped  his  son  to  mount,  stirred 
up  the  little  colt,  then  he  stood  for  a  while  looking  and 
listening  as  Taniska  galloped  down  through  tlie  village, 
as  he  greeted  the  other  boys,  and  as  they  all  went  out 
of  hearing  distance.  Ivan  stood  long  at  the  gate,  and 
Gavrilo's  words  did  not  leave  his  mind:  "  Something 
worse  may  happen  to  you." 

''He  would  not  take  pity  on  himself,"  thought  Ivtln. 
"  Every  thing  is  dried  up,  and  there  is  a  wind  besides. 
He  might  get  in  from  the  rear,  start  a  fh'e,  and  all  would 
be  up  with  us :  the  villain  might  burn  us  up,  and  not 
get  caught.  Now,  if  I  could  only  catch  him,  he  would 
not  get  ofif  so  easy." 

And  thus  it  occurred  to  Ivdn  not  to  go  back  by  the 
front  way  ;  but  he  went  straight  into  the  street,  and  hid 
in  a  corner  behind  the  gate. 

"  No,  I'll  go  round  the  dvor.  Who  knows  what  he's 
up  to  now  ?  ' ' 

And  Ivdn  crept  quietly  alongside  of  the  gates.  Just 
as  he  turned  around  the  corner,  and  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  fence,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  saw  some- 
thing move  in  the  corner,  as  though  some  one  stuck 
his  head  out,  and  then  hid  again. 

Ivdn  stood  still,  and  held  his  breath.  He  listened, 
and  strained  his  eyes ;  all  was  quiet ;  only  the  wind 
was  rustling  the  little  leaves  on  the  twigs,  and  whistling 
in  the  straw-heap.  Sometimes  it  was  as  dark  as  a 
pocket.^     And  then,  again,  his  eyes  got  accustomed  to 

1  Literally,  "  as  though  an  eye  were  taken  out." 


106  TF   YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

the  darkness ;  and  Ivdn  could  see  the  whole  corner,  and 
the  sok ha- plough,  and  the  sloping  roof.  He  stood 
for  a  while,  and  gazed,  but  there  was  no  one  to  be 
seen. 

"It  must  have  been  a  deception,"  thought  Ivdn  : 
*' still,  I  will  make  a  turn  around."  And  he  went 
stealthily  alongside  the  shed.  Ivdn  crept  softly,  in 
his  sabots,  so  that  he  himself  could  not  hear  his  own 
steps.  He  reached  the  corner,  and  lo !  at  the  very 
farther  end  something  near  the  plough  flashed  up  and 
instantly  vanished  again.  A  pang  seized  Ivdn's  heart, 
and  he  stood  still.  He  had  scarcely  stopped  before  a 
brighter  light  flashed  up  in  the  same  place,  and  a  man 
with  a  cap  on  was  plainly  seen  squatting  down  with  his 
back  turned,  and  was  trying  to  kindle  a  bundle  of 
straw  that  he  held  in  his  hand. 

Ivdn's  heart  began  to  flutter  like  a  bird ;  and  he 
braced  himself  up,  and  advanced  with  long  steps,  but 
so  cautiously  that  he  himself  could  not  hear  them. 

"Now,"  says  he  to  himself,  "I've  got  him  now: 
I've  caught  him  in  the  very  act." 

But  before  Ivdn  had  gone  two  more  steps,  suddenly 
something  flared  up  brightlj',  —  brightly,  but  in  an  en- 
tirely different  place  ;  and  it  was  no  small  fire,  either : 
and  the  straw  blazed  up  under  the  pent-roof,  and  began 
to  spread  toward  the  house  ;  and  then  Gavrilo  was  seen 
standing  in  the  light. 

Like  a  hawk  on  a  sparrow,  Ivdn  threw  himself  on 
the  cripple. 

"  I'll  choke  the  life  out  of  him  !  he  won't  escape 
me  this  time,"  he  says  to  himself.  But  the  cripple 
must  have  heard  his  steps :  he  looked  around,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  lameness,  leaped  like  a  rabbit  toward  the 
shed. 


YOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  107 

"  You  sha'n't  escape  !  "  shouted  Ivdn,  and  he  flew 
after  him. 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  get  him  by  the  collar, 
Gavrilo  slipped  from  under  his  hand,  and  Ivan  caught 
him  by  the  coat-tail.  The  coat-tail  tore  out,  and  Ivan 
fell.  Ivdn  leaped  to  his  feet.  ''Help!  Catch  him!" 
And  he  started  after  him  again. 

But,  by  the  time  he  got  to  his  feet,  Gavrilo  was 
already  at  his  own  dvor  ;  but  Ivan  cauglit  up  with  him, 
even  then.  But,  as  he  tried  to  lay  hands  on  him,  some- 
thing struck  him  on  the  head,  as  though  a  stone  had 
hit  his  temple.  It  was  Gavrilo,  who  had  picked  up  an 
oak  stave ;  and  when  Ivdn  came  up  to  him,  he  struck 
him  on  the  head  with  all  his  force. 

Ivdn  saw  stars  ;  every  thing  grew  dark  ;  he  staggered, 
and  fell  senseless.  When  he  came  to,  Gavrilo  was 
gone ;  it  was  as  light  as  day ;  in  the  direction  of  his 
yard,  there  was  a  noise  like  a  machine,  a  crackling  and 
roaring.  Ivdn  turned  around,  and  saw  that  the  back- 
shed  was  already  gone,  that  the  side-shed  was  on  fire, 
and  the  flame  and  smoke  and  burning  straw  were  drift- 
ing toward  the  izbd. 

''What  does  this  mean?  Heavens  and  earth, 
bratsui!  "  ^  exclaimed  Ivdn,  lifting  his  hand,  and  slap- 
ping his  thigh.  "All  it  needs,  is  to  pull  down  the 
pent-roof,  and  trample  it  out.  What  does  it  mean, 
b j'ctts u iV*  he  repeated . 

He  tried  to  shout,  but  he  had  no  breath :  his  voice 
stuck  in  his  throat.  He  tried  to  run,  but  his  feet 
refused  to  move :  they  tripped  each  other  up.  He 
merely  walked  and  staggered :  again  his  breath  failed 
him.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  got  his  wind,  and  then 
started  again.     While  he  was  making  his  wa}'  round 

*  Bratsui,  literally  brothere. 


108  IF   YOU  NEGLECT   THE  FIRE, 

to  the  shed,  and  getting  to  the  fire,  the  side-shed  also 
burned  to  the  ground,  and  the  corner  of  the  izba  and 
the  gates  caught  fire.  The  flames  poured  up  from  the 
izbd,  and  all  entrance  to  the  door  was  cut  off.  A  great 
crowd  gathered,  but  nothing  could  be  done.  The  neigh- 
bors were  carrying  out  their  own  effects,  and  driving 
their  cattle  out  of  their  yards. 

After  Ivan's  dvor  had  burned  up,  Gavrilo's  took 
fire :  the  wind  arose,  and  carried  the  fire  across  the 
street.     Half  the"  village  was  destroyed. 

From  Ivan's  house  the  old  man  was  rescued  with  dif- 
ficulty, and  his  people  rushed  out  with  only  the  clothes 
they  had  on.  Every  thing  else  was  burned,  with  the 
exception  of  the  horses,  that  had  gone  to  the  night- 
pasture.  All  the  cattle  were  destroyed.  The  poultry 
were  burned  on  their  roosts  :  the  telyegas,  the  ploughs, 
the  harrows,  the  women's  boxes,  the  corn  and  wheat  in 
the  granary,  every  thing  was  destroyed. 

Gavrilo's  cattle  were  rescued,  and  a  few  of  his 
effects  w'ere  removed  in  safety. 

The  fire  lasted  all  night  long.  Ivdn  stood  by  his 
dvor,  and  gazed,  and  kept  repeating,  "  What  does  this 
mean?  Heavens  and  earth  !  All  it  needs,  is  to  pull  it 
down,  and  trample  it  out." 

But,  when  the  ceiling  of  his  izba  fell  in,  he  crept  up 
close  to  the  fire,  caught  hold  of  a  burning  beam,  and 
tried  to  pull  it  out.  The  babas  saw  him,  and  began  to 
call  him  back ;  but  he  pulled  the  beam  out,  and  went 
back  after  another,  but  staggered,  and  fell  into  the  fire. 

Then  his  son  dashed  in  after  him,  and  pulled  him 
out.  Ivjin's  beard  and  hair  were  burned  off,  liis  clothes 
were  scorched,  his  hands  were  ruined,  and  yet  he  did 
not  notice  it.  "  He  has  lost  his  wits  from  grief,"  said 
the  crowd. 


TOU   DON'T  PUT  IT   OUT.  109 

The  fire  began  to  die  down  ;  and  Ivdn  still  stood  in 
the  same  place,  and  kept  repeating,  "  Heavens  and 
earth  !     Only  pull  it  down  !  " 

In  the  morning  the  starosta  sent  his  son  after 
Ivdn. 

"•  Uncle  Ivan,  your  father  is  dying :  he  wants  you  to 
come  and  sa}'  good-b}'." 

Ivan  had  forgotten  all  about  his  father,  and  did  not 
comprehend  what  they  said  to  him. 

''  What  father?  "  says  he  :  "  wants  whom?  " 

''  He  wants  you  to  come  and  bid  him  go.od-by :  he 
is  dying  in  our  izbd.  Come,  let  us  go,  uncle  Ivan," 
said  the  village  elder's  son,  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 
Ivdn  followed  the  stdrosta's  son. 

The  old  man,  when  he  was  rescued,  was  surrounded 
by  burning  straw,  and  was  badly  burned.  He  was 
taken  to  the  starosta's,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  village. 
That  part  of  the  village  was  not  burned. 

When  Ivdn  came  to  his  father,  there  was  no  one  in 
the  izbd  except  a  little  old  woman,  — the  starosta's  wife, 
—  and  some  children  on  the  oven.  All  the  rest  were  at 
the  fire.  The  old  man  was  lying  on  the  bench  with  a 
little  candle  in  his  hand,  and  was  gazing  at  the  door. 
When  his  son  entered,  he  started.  The  old  woman 
went  to  him,  and  told  him  that  his  son  had  come.  He 
asked  him  to  come  nearer.  Ivan  approached,  and  the 
old  man  said, — 

''Well,  VAnyatka,"  he  said,  "I  told  you  so.  Who 
burned  up  the  village?  " 

"  He,  bdtiushka,"  said  Ivdn.  "I  myself  caught  him 
at  it.  Right  before  my  eyes  he  touched  off  the  roof. 
All  I  needed  to  do,  was  to  pull  out  the  bunch  of  burn- 
ing straw,  trample  it  down,  and  it  would  never  have 
happened." 


110  IF    YOU  NEGLECT  THE  FIRE, 

*'Ivan,"  said  the  old  man,  "  m}^^  death  has  come : 
you,  too,  will  have  to  die.    Whose  sin  is  it?" 

Iv^n  looked  at  his  father,  and  said  nothing.  He 
could  not  utter  a  word. 

''Tell  me  in  God's  presence!  Whose  sin  was  it? 
What  did  I  tell  you?" 

Only  at  this  moment  Ivdn  came  to  himself,  and  com- 
prehended all.  He  began  to  snuffle  with  his  nose,  and 
said,  — 

"  Mine,  bdtiushka  !  "  and  he  fell  on  his  knees  before 
his  father,  .began  to  weep,  and  said,  — 

"  Forgive  me,  bdtiushka  :  I  am  guilty  before  you  and 
before  God.*' 

•  The  old  man  waved  his  hands,  took  the  candle  in  his 
left,  and  pointed  with  his  right  to  his  forehead ;  tried 
to  cross  himself,  but  failed  to  lift  it  high  enough,  and 
stopped  short. 

"  Praise  the  Lord,  praise  the  Lord !  "  he  said,  and 
then  he  looked  sternly  at  his  son. 

'^ButVanka,  Vdnka !  " 

"  What  is  it,  batiushka?  '* 

''  What  ought  you  to  do  now?  ** 

Ivdn  kept  on  weeping. 

"  I  don't  know,  batiushka,"  he  said.  "  How  are  we 
going  to  live  now,  bdtiushka?  " 

The  old  man  shut  his  eyes,  moved  his  lips,  as  though 
trying  to  gather  his  strength ;  and  then  he  opened  his 
eyes  again,  and  said,  "  You  will  get  along  !  if  you  live 
with  God  —  you  will  get  along." 

The  old  man  stopped  speaking,  and  smiled,  and 
said,  ''  Look,  Vanya !  don't  tell  who  set  the  fire. 
Hide  your  neighbor's  sin,  and  God  will  forgive  two 
sins.'* 

The  old  man  took  the  candle  in  both  his  hands,  held 


70U  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT.  Ill 

them  crossed  on  his  breast,  sighed,  stretched  himself, 
and  died. 

Ivdn  did  not  expose  Gavrilo,  and  no  one  knew  who 
set  the  fire. 

And  Ivdn's  heart  grew  soft  toward  Gavrilo,  and 
Gavrilo  was  surprised  because  Ivdn  did  not  tell  any 
one  about  him.  At  first  Gavrilo  was  afraid  of  him, 
but  afterwards  he  got  accustomed  to  it.  The  muzhiks 
ceased  to  quarrel,  their  families  also.  While  they 
were  rebuilding,  both  families  lived  in  one  dvor ;  and 
when  the  village  was  restored,  and  the  dvors  were 
put  at  a  greater  distance  apart,  Ivdn  and  Gavrilo 
again  became  neighbors  in  one  nest. 

And  Ivan  and  Gavrilo  lived  in  neighborly  fashion, 
just  as  the  old  men  used  to  live.  And  Ivdn  Shcher- 
bakof  remembers  the  old  man's  advice,  and  God's 
proof  that  a  fire  ought  to  be  quenched  at  the  begin- 
ning. 

And  if  any  one  does  him  harm,  he  does  not  try  to 
retaliate,  but  he  tries  to  arrange  things ;  and  if  any 
one  calls  him  a  bad  name,  he  does  not  try  to  outdo 
him  in  his  reply,  but  he  tries  to  teach  him  not  to  say 
bad  things  ;  and  thus  he  teaches  his  babas  and  children ; 
and  thus  Ivan  Shcherbakof  reformed,  and  began  to  live 
better  than  before. 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,  THERE  GOD  IS  ALSO. 

1885. 


In  the  city  lived  Martuin  Avdy^itch,  a  shoemaker. 
He  lived  in  a  basement,  in  a  little  room  with  one  win- 
dow. The  window  looked  out  on  the  street.  Through 
the  window  he  used  to  watch  the  people  passuig  by : 
although  only  their  feet  could  be  seen,  yet  by  the  boots 
Martuin  Avdy^it^'h  recognized  their  owners.  Martuin 
Avdy^itch  had  lived  long  in  one  place,  and  had  many 
acquaintances.  Few  pairs  of  boots  in  his  district  had 
not  been  in  his  hands  once  and  again.  Some  he  would 
half -sole,  some  he  would  patch,  some  he  would  stitch 
around,  and  occasionally  he  would  also  put  on  new 
uppers.  And  through  the  window  he  quite  often  recog- 
nized his  work.  Avdyeitch  had  plenty  to  do,  because 
he  was  a  faithful  workman,  used  good  material,  did  not 
make  exorbitant  charges,  and  kept  his  word.  If  he 
can  finish  an  order  by  a  certain  time,  he  accepts  it :  if* 
not,  he  will  not  deceive  you,  —  he  tells  you  so  before- 
hand. And  all  knew  Avdjeitch,  and  he  was  never  out 
of  work. 

Avdyeitch  had  always  been  a  good  man  ;  but  as  he 
grew  old,  he  began  to  think  more  about  his  soul,  and 
get  nearer  to  God.  Martuin's  wife  had  died  when  he 
was  still  living  with  his  master.  His  wife  left  him  a 
boy  three  years  old.    None  of  their  other  children  had 

112 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOD  IS  ALSO.       113 

lived.  All  the  eldest  had  died  in  childhood.  Martuin 
at  first  intended  to  send  his  little  son  to  his  sister  in  the 
village,  but  afterwards  he  felt  sorry  for  him  :  he  thought 
to  himself,  "  It  will  be  hard  for  my  Kapitoshka  to  live 
in  a  strange  family.     I  shall  keep  him  with  me.'' 

And  Avdyeitch  left  his  master,  and  went  into  lodgings 
with  his  little  son.  But,  through  God's  will,  Avdyeitch 
had  no  luck  with  children.  As  Kapitoshka  grew  older, 
he  began  to  help  his  father,  and  would  have  been 
a  delight  to  him,  but  fell  sick,  went  to  bed,  suffered  a 
week,  and  died.  Martuin  buried  his  son,  and  fell  into 
despair.  So  deep  was  this  despair,  that  he  began  to 
complain  of  God.  Martuin  fell  into  such  a  melancholy 
state,  that  more  than  once  he  prayed  to  God  for  death, 
and  reproached  God  because  he  did  not  take  away  him 
who  was  an  old  man,  instead  of  his  beloved  only  son. 
Avdyc^itch  also  ceased  to  go  to  church. 

And  once  a  little  old  man,  a  fellow-countryman, 
came  from  Troi'tsa  (Trinity)  to  see  Avdyeitch :  for 
seven  years  he  had  been  absent.  Avdyeitch  talked 
with  him,  and  began  to  complain  about  his  sorrows. 

"  I  have  no  more  desire  to  live,"  he  said  :  "  I  only 
wish  I  was  dead.  That  is  all  I  pray  God  for.  I  9,m  a 
man  without  any  thing  to  hope  for  now." 

And  the  little  old  man  said  to  him,  — 

"  You  don't  talk  right,  Martuin  :  -we  must  not  judge 
God's  doings.  The  world  moves,  not  by  your  skill, 
but  by  God's  will.  God  decreed  for  your  son  to  die, — 
for  you  —  to  live.  Consequently,  it  is  for  the  best. 
And  you  are  in  despair,  because  you  wish  to  live  for 
your  own  happiness." 

*'  But  what  shall  one  live  for?  "  asked  Martuin. 

And  the  little  old  man  said,  *'  We  must  live  for  God, 
Martuin.      He  gives  you  life,  and  for  his  sake   you 


114        WHERE  LOVE  IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO. 

must  live.  When  j^ou  begin  to  live  for  him,  you  will 
not  grieve  over  any  thing,  and  all  will  seem  easy  to 
you." 

Martuin  kept  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  says, 
"  But  how  can  one  live  for  the  sake  of  God?" 

And  the  little  old  man  said,  *'  Christ  has  taught  us 
how  to  live  for  God.  You  know  how  to  read  ?  Buy  a 
Testament,  and  read  it :  there  3'ou  will  learn  how  to 
live  for  God.     Every  thing  is  explained  there." 

And  these  words  kindled  a  fire  in  Avdy^itch's  heart. 
And  he  went  that  very  same  day,  bought  a  New  Tes- 
tament in  large  print,  and  began  to  read.  At  first 
Avdyditch  intended  to  read  only  on  holida3's ;  but  as 
he  began  to  read,  it  so  cheered  his  soul  that  he  used  to 
read  every  day.  At  times  he  would  become  so  absorbed 
in  reading,  that  all  the  kerosene  in  the  lamp  would  burn 
out,  and  still  he  could  not  tear  himself  away.  And  so 
Avdy^itch  used  to  read  ever}'  evening.  And  the  more 
he  read,  the  clearer  he  understood  what  God  wanted  of 
him,  and  how  one  should  live  for  God ;  and  his  heart 
constantly  grew  easier  and  easier.  Formerly,  when 
he  lay  down  to  sleep,  he  used  to  sigh  and  groan,  and 
always  think  of  his  Kapitoshka ;  and  now  he  only  ex- 
claimed, "Glory  to  thee!  glory  to  thee.  Lord!  Thy 
will  be  done." 

And  from  that  time  Avdy^itch's  whole  life  was 
changed.  In  other  days  he,  too,  used  to  drop  into  a 
saloon,  as  a  holiday  amusement,  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea ; 
and  he  was  not  averse  to  a  little  brandy  either.  He 
would  take  a  drink  with  some  acquaintance,  and  leave 
the  saloon,  not  intoxicated  exactly,  yet  in  a  happy 
frame  of  mind,  and  inclined  to  talk  nonsense,  and 
shout,  and  use  abusive  language  at  a  person.  Now 
he  left  off  this  sort  of  thing.     His  life  became  quiet 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,    THERE   GOD    IS  ALSO,        115 

and  joyful.  In  the  morning  he  sits  down  to  work, 
finishes  his  allotted  task,  then  takes  the  little  lamp 
from  the  hook,  puts  it  on  the  table,  gets  his  book  from 
the  shelf,  opens  it,  and  sits  down  to  read.  And  the  more 
he  reads,  the  more  he  understands,  and  the  brighter 
and  happier  it  is  in  his  heart. 

Once  it  happened  that  Martuin  read  till  late  into  the 
night.  He  was  reading  the  Gospel  of  Luke.  He  was 
reading  over  the  sixth  chapter ;  and  he  was  reading  the 
verses,  ''And  unto  him  that  smite th  thee  on  the  one 
cheek  ofifer  also  the  other ;  and  him  that  taketh  away 
thy  cloak  forbid  not  to  take  thy  coat  also.  Give  to 
every  man  that  asketh  of  thee  ;  and  of  him  that  taketh 
away  thy  goods  ask  them  not  again.  And  as  ye  would 
that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  also  to  them  like- 
wise.*' He  read  further  also  those  verses,  where  God 
speaks  :  ''  And  why  call  ye  me.  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not 
the  things  which  I  saj'?  Whosoever  cometh  to  me,  and 
heareth  my  sayings,  and  doeth  them,  I  will  shew  3'ou  to 
whom  he  is  like :  he  is  like  a  man  which  built  an  house, 
and  digged  deep,  and  laid  the  foundation  on  a  rock : 
and  when  the  flood  arose,  the  stream  beat  veliemently 
upon  that  house,  and  could  not  shake  it :  for  it  was 
founded  upon  a  rock.  But  he  that  heareth,  and  doeth 
not,  is  like  a  man  that  without  a  foundation  built  an 
house  upon  the  earth ;  against  which  the  stream  did 
beat  vehemently,  and  immediately  it  fell ;  and  the  ruin 
of  that  house  was  great." 

Avdyeitch  read  these  words,  and  joy  filled  his  soul. 
He  took  off  his  spectacles,  put  them  down  on  the  book, 
leaned  his  elbows  upon  the  table,  and  became  lost  in 
thought.  And  he  began  to  measure  his  life  by  these 
words.     And  he  thought  to  himself,  — 

*'  Is  my  house  built  upon  the  rock,  or  upon  the  sand? 


116         WHERE  LOVE  IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO. 

*Tis  well  if  on  the  rock.  It  is  so  eas}'  when  you  are 
alone  b}'  yourself ;  it  seems  as  if  you  had  done  every 
thing  as  God  commands :  but  when  you  forget  your- 
self, you  sin  again.  Yet  I  shall  still  struggle  on.  It 
is  very  good.     Help  me,  Lord  !  " 

Thus  ran  his  thoughts :  he  wanted  to  go  to  bed,  but 
he  felt  loath  to  tear  himself  away  from  the  book.  And 
he  began  to  read  further  in  the  seventh  chapter.  He 
read  about  the  centurion,  he  read  about  the  widow's 
son,  he  read  about  the  answer  given  to  John's  disciples, 
and  finally  he  came  to  that  place  where  the  rich  Phari- 
see desired  the  Lord  to  sit  at  meat  with  him ;  and  he 
read  how  the  woman  that  was  a  sinner  anointed  his 
feet,  and  washed  them  with  her  tears,  and  how  he  for- 
gave her.  He  reached  the  forty-fourth  verse,  and  be- 
gan to  read,  — 

"And  he  turned  to  the  woman,  and  said  unto 
Simon,  Seest  thou  this  woman?  I  entered  into  thine 
house,  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet :  but  she 
hath  washed  my  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  with 
the  hairs  of  her  head.  Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss :  but 
this  woman  since  the  time  I  came  in  hath  not  ceased  to 
kiss  my  feet.  Mj'  head  with  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint : 
but  this  woman  hath  anointed  my  feet  with  ointment." 
He  finished  reading  these  verses,  and  thought  to  him- 
self, "  Thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet,  thou 
gavest  me  no  kiss.  My  head  with  oil  thou  didst  not 
anoint.^* 

And  again  Avdy^itch  took  off  his  spectacles,  put 
them  down  upon  the  book,  and  again  he  became  lost  in 
thought. 

"  It  seems  that  Pharisee  must  have  been  such  a 
man  as  I  am.  I,  too,  apparently  have  thought  only  of 
myself, — how  I  might  have  my  tea,  be  warm  and 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOD  IS  ALSO.        117 

comfortable,  but  never  to  think  about  my  guest.  He 
thought  about  himself,  but  there  was  not  the  least  care 
taken  of  the  guest.  And  who  was  his  guest?  The 
Lord  himself.  If  he  had  come  to  me,  should  I  have 
done  the  same  way?  " 

Avdy^itch  rested  his  head  upon  both  his  arms,  and 
did  not  notice  how  he  fell  asleep. 

"  Martuin  !  "  suddenly  seemed  to  sound  in  his  ears. 

Martuin  started  from  his  sleep  :   "  Who  is  here?  " 

He  turned  around,  glanced  toward  the  door  —  no 
one. 

Again  he  fell  into  a  doze.  Suddenly  he  plainly 
hears,  — 

"  Martuin!  Ah,  Martuin!  look  to-morrow  on  the 
street.     I  am  coming." 

Martuin  awoke,  rose  from  the  chair,  began  to  rub  his 
eyes.  He  himself  does  not  know  whether  he  heard 
those  words  in  his  dream,  or  in  reality.  He  turned 
down  his  lamp,  and  went  to  bed. 

At  daybreak  next  morning,  Avd^'c^itch  rose,  made 
his  prayer  to  God,  lighted  the  stove,  put  on  the  shchi^ 
and  the  kasha, ^  put  the  water  in  the  samovar,  put  on 
his  apron,  and  sat  down  by  the  window  to  work. 

Avdyeitch  is  working,  and  at  the  same  time  thinking 
about  all  that  had  happened  yesterday.  He  thinks 
both  ways ;  now  he  thinks  it  was  a  dream,  and  now  he 
thinks  he  i^oally  heard  a  voice.  "  Well,"  he  thinks, 
"  such  things  have  been."        , 

Martuin  is  sitting  by  the  window,  and  does  not  work 
as  much  as  he  looks  through  the  window :  when  any 
one  passes  by  in  boots  that  he  does  not  know,  he  bends 
down,  looks  out  of  the  window,  in  order  to  see,  not  only 
the  feet,  but  also  the  face.     The  dvornik  ^  passed  by  in 

1  Cabbage-Boup.  2  Qruel.  ^  House-porter. 


118        WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOD  IS  ALSO. 

new  valenM;  ^  the  water-carrier  passed  by  ;  then  came 
alongside  of  the  window  an  old  soldier  of  Nicholas's 
time,  in  an  old  pair  of  laced  felt  boots,  with  a  shovel  in 
his  hands.  Avdy^itch  recognized  him  by  his  felt  boots. 
The  old  man's  name  was  Stepdnuitch ;  and  a  neigh- 
boring merchant,  out  of  charity,  gave  him  a  home  with 
him.  He  was  required  to  assist  the  dvornik.  Stepdn- 
uitch  began  to  shovel  away  the  snow  from  in  front  of 
Avdy^itch*s  window.  Avdyeitch  glanced  at  him,  and 
took  up  his  work  again. 

"Psha\^!  I  must  be  getting  crazy  in  my  old  age,'* 
said  Avdyeitch,  and  laughed  at  himself.  '^  Stepdn- 
uitch  is  clearing  away  the  snow,  and  I  imagine  that 
Christ  is  coming  to  see  me.  I  was  entirely  out  of  my 
mind,  old  dotard  that  I  am  !  "  Avdy6itch  sewed  about 
a  dozen  stitches,  and  then  felt  impelled  to  look  through 
the  window  again.  He  looked  out  again  through  the 
window,  and  sees  Stepdnuitch  has  leaned  his  shovel 
against  the  wall,  and  is  either  warming  himself,  or  rest- 
ing. He  is  an  old,  broken-down  man  :  evidently  he 
has  not  strength  enough,  even  to  shovel  the  snow. 
Avd^'^itch  said  to  himself,  "  I  will  give  him  some  tea  : 
by  the  way,  the  samovar  must  be  boiling  by  this  time." 
Avdyeitch  laid  down  his  awl,  rose  from  his  seat,  put 
the  samovar  on  the  table,  made  the  tea,  and  tapped  with 
his  finger  at  the  glass.  Stepanuitch  turned  around*, 
and  came  to  the  window.  Avdyeitch  beckoned  to  him, 
and  went  to  open  the  door. 

"Come  in,  warm  yourself  a  little,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  be  cold." 

"  May  Christ  reward  you  for  this  !  my  bones  ache," 
said  Stepdnuitch. 

Stepdnuitch  came  in,  and  shook  off  the  snow,  tiied 

1  Felt  boots. 


WHERE  LOVE   JS,    THERE   GOD  JS  ALSO.        119 

to  wipe  his  feet,  so  as  not  to  soil  the  floor,  but  stag- 
gered. 

''  Don't  trouble  to  wipe  your  feet.  I  will  clean  it  up 
myself :  we  are  used  to  such  things.  Come  in  and  sit 
down,"  said  Avdyeitch.     ''  Drink  a  cup  of  tea.'* 

And  Avd3'^itch  filled  two  glasses,  and  handed  one  to 
his  guest ;  while  he  himself  poured  his  tea  into  a  saucer, 
and  began  to  blow  it. 

Stepanuitch  finished  drinking  his  glass  of  tea,  turned 
the  glass  upside  down,^  put  upon  it  the  half-eaten  lump 
of  sugar,  and  began  to  express  his  thanks.  But  it  was 
evident  he  wanted  some  more. 

"  Have  some  more,"  said  Avdj^^itch,  filling  both  his 
own  glass  and  his  guest's.  Avd^^eitch  drinks  his  tea, 
but  from  time  to  time  keeps  glancing  out  into  the 
street. 

*'  Are  you  expecting  any  one?  "  asked  his  guest. 

''Am  I  expecting  any  one?  I  am  ashamed  even  to 
tell  whom  I  expect.  I  am,  and  I  am  not,  expecting 
some  one ;  but  one  word  has  impressed  itself  upon  my 
heart.  Whether  it  is  a  dream,  or  something  else,  I 
do  not  know.  Don't  you  see,  brother,  I  was  reading 
yesterday  the  gospel  about  Chiist,  the  Bdtiushka;^  how 
he  suffered,  how  he  walked  on  the  earth.  1  suppose 
you  have  heard  about  it?" 

"Indeed  I  have,"  replied  Stepdnuitch :  "  but  we  are 
people  in  darkness  ;  we  can't  read." 

"  Well,  now,  I  was  reading  about  that  very  thing, — 
how  he  walked  upon  the  earth :  I  read,  you  know,  how 
he  comes  to  the  Pharisee,  and  the  Pharisee  did  not 
treat  him  hospitably.  Well,  and  so,  my  brother,  I  was 
reading,  yesterday,  about  this  very  thing,  and  was 
thinking  to  myself  how  he  did  not  receive  Christ,  the 

1  A  custom  among  the  llusisians.  2  Little  father. 


120         WHERE  LOVE   IS,    THERE   GOD   JS  ALSO. 

Batiushka,  with  honor.  If,  for  example,  he  should 
come  to  me,  or  any  one  else,  I  think  to  myself,  I  should 
not  even  know  how  to  receive  him.  And  he  gave  him 
no  reception  at  all.  Well !  while  I  was  thus  thinking,  I 
fell  asleep,  brother,  and  I  hear  some  one  call  me  by 
name.  I  got  up :  the  voice,  just  as  though  some  one 
whispered,  says,  '  Be  on  the  watch  :  I  shall  come  to- 
morrow.' And  this  happened  twice.  Well!  would 
you  believe  it,  it  got  into  my  head  ?  I  scold  myself  — 
and  yet  I  am  expecting  him,  the  Batiushka." 

Stepdnuitch  shook  his  head,  and  said  nothing :  he 
finished  drinking  his  glass  of  tea,  and  put  it  on  the  side  ; 
but  Avdyeitch  picked  up  the  glass  again,  and  filled  it 
once  more. 

"  Drink  some  more  for  your  good  health.  You  see, 
I  have  an  idea,  that,  when  the  Bdtiushka  went  about  on 
this  earth,  he  disdained  no  one,  and  had  more  to  do 
with  the  simple  people.  He  always  went  to  see  the 
simple  people.  He  picked  out  his  disciples  more 
from  among  our  brethren,  sinners  like  ourselves  from 
the  working-class.  He,  says  he,  who  exalts  him- 
self, shall  be  humbled,  and  he  who  is  humbled  shall 
become  exalted.  You,  says  he,  call  me  Lord,  and  I, 
says  he,  wash  your  feet.  Whoever  wishes,  says  he,  to 
be  the  first,  the  same  shall  be  a  servant  to  all.  Because, 
says  he,  blessed  are  the  poor,  the  humble,  the  kind*, 
the  generous."  And  Stepanuitch  forgot  about  his  tea  : 
he  was  an  old  man,  and  easily  moved  to  tears.  He  is 
sitting  listening,  and  the  tears  are  rolling  down  his 
face. 

"  Come,  now,  have  some  more  tea,"  said  Avdyeitch  ; 
but  Stepanuitch  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  thanked 
him,  turned  up  his  glass,  and  arose. 

''  Thanks  to  you,"  he  says,  '^  Martuin  Avdyeitch, 


WHERE  LOVE   IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO.        121 

for  treating  me  kindly,  and  satisfying  me,  soul  and 
body." 

"  You  are  welcome  ;  come  in  again  ;  always  glad  to 
see  a  friend,"  said  Avdy^itch. 

Stepdnuitch  departed ;  and  Martuin  poured  out  the 
rest  of  the  tea,  drank  it  up,  put  away  the  dishes,  and 
sat  down  again  by  the  window  to  work,  to  stitch  on 
a  patch.  He  is  stitching,  and  at  the  same  time  look- 
ing through  the  window.  He  is  expecting  Christ,  and 
is  all  the  while  thinking  of  him  and  his  deeds,  and 
his  head  is  filled  with  the  different  speeches  of  Christ. 

Two  soldiers  passed  by :  one  wore  boots  furnished 
by  the  Crown,  and  the  other  one,  boots  that  he  had 
made ;  then  the  master  ^  of  the  next  house,  passed 
by  in  shining  galoshes ;  then  a  baker  with  a  basket 
passed  by.  All  passed  by ;  and  now  there  came  also 
by  the  window  a  woman  in  woollen  stockings  and 
wooden  shoes.  She  passed  by  the  window,  and  stood 
still  near  the  window-case. 

Avdy^itch  looked  up  at  her  from  the  window,  sees  it 
is  a  strange  woman  poorly  clad,  and  with  a  child :  she 
was  standing  by  the  wall  with  her  back  to  the  wind, 
trying  to  wrap  up  the  child,  and  she  has  nothing  to 
wrap  it  up  in.  The  woman  was  dressed  in  shabby 
summer  clothes  :  and  from  behind  the  frame,  Avdy^itch 
hears  the  child  crying,  and  the  woman  trying  to  pacify 
it ;  but  she  is  not  able  to  pacify  it.  Avdy^itch  got  up, 
went  to  the  door,  ascended  the  steps,  and  cried, 
"Hey!  my  good  woman  !"  ^  The  woman  heard  him 
and  turned  around. 

<'<'  Why  are  you  standing  in  the  cold  with  the  child? 
Come  into  my  room,  where  it  is  warm :  you  can  man- 
age it  better.     Right,  in  this  way  !  " 

'^  Khozyciin,  'Umultsaahl 


122        WHERE  LOVE   IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO. 

The  woman  was  astonished.  She  sees  an  old,  old 
man  in  an  apron,  with  spectacles  on  his  nose,  calling 
her  to  him.  She  followed  him.  They  descended  the 
steps,  entered  the  room :  the  old  man  led  the  woman  to 
his  bed. 

**  There,"  says  he,  "  sit  down,  my  good  woman, 
nearer  to  the  stove  :  you  can  get  warm,  and  nurse  the 
child." 

"  I  have  no  milk  for  him.  I  myself  have  not  eaten 
anything  since  morning,"  said  the  woman  ;  but,  never- 
theless, she  took  the  child  to  her  breast. 

Avdy^itch  shook  his  head,  went  to  the  table,  brought 
out  the  bread  and  a  dish,  opened  the  oven-door,  poured 
into  the  dish  some  cabbage-soup,  took  out  the  pot  with 
the  gruel,  but  it  was  not  done  yet ;  so  he  filled  the  dish 
with  shchl  only,  and  put  it  on  the  table.  He  got  the 
bread,  took  the  towel  down  from  the  hook,  and  put  it 
upon  the  table. 

''  Sit  down,"  he  says,  "  and  eat,  my  good  woman ; 
and  I  will  mind  the  little  one.  You  see,  I  once  had 
children  of  my  own  :  I  know  how  to  handle  them." 

The  woman  crossed  herself,  sat  down  at  tht,  table, 
and  began  to  eat ;  while  Avdy^itch  took  a  seat  on  the  bed 
near  the  infant.  Avdy^itch  kept  smacking  and  smack- 
ing to  it  with  his  lips  ;  but  it  was  a  poor  kind  of  smack; 
ing,  for  he  had  no  teeth.  The  little  one  still  cries. 
And  it  occurred  to  Avdy^itch  to  tlireaten  the  little  one 
with  his  finger :  he  waves,  waves  his  finger  rigjit  before 
the  child's  mouth,  and  hastily  withdraws  it.  He  does 
not  put  it  to  its  mouth,  because  his  finger  is  black,  and 
soiled  with  wax.  And  the  little  one  looked  at  his 
finger,  and  became  quiet :  then  it  began  to  smile,  and 
Avdy^itch  also  was  glad.  While  the  woman  is  eating, 
she  tells  who  she  is,  and  whither  she  was  going. 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO.       123 

"I,"  says  she,  "am  a  soldier's  wife.  It  is  now 
seven -months  since  they  sent  m}-  husband  away  off, 
and  no  tidings.  I  lived  out  as  cook  ;  the  baby  was 
born  ;  no  one  cared  to  keep  me  with  a  child.  This  is 
the  third  month  that  I  have  been  struggling  along  with- 
out a  place.  I  ate  up  all  I  had.  I  wanted  to  engage 
as  a  wet-nurse  —  no  one  would  take  me  —  I  am  too 
thin,  they  say.  I  have  just  been  to  the  merchant's 
wife,  where  lives  our  bdbotchka^^  and  so  they  promised 
to  take  us  in.  I  thought  this  was  tlie  end  of  it.  But 
she  told  me  to  come  next  week.  And  she  lives  a  long 
way  off.  I  got  tired  out ;  and  it  tired  him,  too,  my 
heart's  darling.  Fortunately,  our  landlad}^  takes  pity 
on  us  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  gives  us  a  room,  else 
1  don't  know  how  I  should  manage  to  get  along." 

Avdy<5itch  sighed,  and  said,  "  Haven't  you  any  warm 
clothes  ?  *  * 

"  Now  is  the  time,  friend,  to  wear  warm  clothes  ;  but 
yesterday  I  pawned  my  last  shawl  for  a  twenty-kopek 
piece."  ^ 

The  woman  came  to  the  bed,  and  took  the  child  ;  and 
Avdy^itch  rose,  went  to  the  little  wall,  and  succeeded 
in  finding  an  old  coat. 

"  Na !  "  says  he :  *'  it  is  a  poor  thing,  yet  you  may 
turn  it  to  some  use.'* 

The  woman  looked  at  the  coat,  looked  at  the  old 
man  ;  she  took  the  coat,  and  burst  into  tears  :  and  Avd- 
y^itch  turned  away  his  head  ;  crawling  under  the  bed, 
he  pushed  out  a  little  trunk,  rummaged  in  it,  and  sat 
down  again  opposite  the  woman. 

And  the  woman  said,  "May  Christ  bless  you,  di4- 
duslika!^      He   must   have   sent  me  himself   to  your 

»  Little  grandmother. 

*  Dvagriveunui,  silver,  worth  sixteen  cents.        s  Little  gmndfather. 


124        WHERE  LOVE   IS,    THERE    GOD   IS  ALSO. 

window.  My  little  child  would  have  frozen  to  death. 
When  I  started  out,  it  was  warm,  but  now  it  is  terribly' 
cold.  And  he.  B^tiushka,  led  3'ou  to  look  through  the 
window,  and  take  pity  on  me,  an  unfortunate." 

Avdy^itch  smiled,  and  said,  "Indeed,  he  did  that! 
I  have  been  looking  through  the  window,  my  good 
woman,  not  without  cause."  And  Martuin  told  the 
soldier's  wife  his  dream,  and  how  he  heard  the  voice,  — 
how  the  Lord  promised  to  come  and  see  him  that  day. 

"All  things  are  possible,"  said  the  woman.  Slie 
rose,  put  on  the  coat,  wrapped  up  her  little  child  in  it ; 
and,  as  she  started  to  take  leave,  she  thanked  Avd- 
y^itch  again. 

"  Take  this,  for  Christ's  sake,"  said  Avdyeitch,  giv- 
ing her  a  twenty-kopek  piece  :  "  redeem  your  shawl." 
She  made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Avdyeitch  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  and  went  with  her  to  the  door. 

The  woman  left.  Avdyeitch  ate  some  shchi,  washed 
some  dishes,  and  sat  down  again  to  work.  While  he 
works  he  still  remembers  the  window  :  when  the  window 
grew  darker,  he  immediately  looked  out  to  see  who  was 
passing  by.  Both  acquaintances  and  strangers  passed 
by,  and  there  was  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary. 

But  here  Avdyeitch  sees  that  an  old  apple- woman 
has  stopped  right  in  front  of  his  window.  She  carries 
a  basket  with  apples.  Only  a  few  were  left,  as  she  had 
nearly  sold  them  all  out ;  and  over  her  shoulder  she  had 
a  bag  full  of  chips.  She  must  have  gathered  them  up 
in  some  new  building,  and  was  on  her  way  home.  One 
could  see  that  the  bag  was  heavy  on  her  shoulder :  she 
wanted  to  shift  it  to  ttie  other  shoulder.  So  she  low- 
ered the  bag  upon  the  sidewalk,  stood  the  basket  with 
the  apples  on  a  little  post,  and  began  to  shake  down 
the  splinters  in  the  bag.     And  while  she  was  shaking 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,    THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO.       125 

her  bag,  a  little  boy  in  a  torn  cap  came  along,  picked 
up  an  apple  from  the  basket,  and  was  about  to  make 
his  escape  ;  but  the  old  woman  noticed  it,  turned  around, 
and  caught  the  youngster  by  his  sleeve.  The  little 
boy  began  to  struggle,  tried  to  tear  himself  away ;  but 
the  old  woman  grasped  him  with  both  hands,  knocked 
off  his  cap,  and  caught  him  by  the  hair. 

The  little  boy  is  screaming,  the  old  woman  is  scold- 
ing. Avdyeitch  lost  no  time  in  putting  away  his  awl ; 
he  threw  it  upon  the  floor,  sprang  to  the  door,  —  he 
even  stumbled  on  the  stairs,  and  dropped  his  eye- 
glasses,—  and  rushed  out  into  the  street. 

The  old  woman  is  pulling  the  youngster  by  his  hair, 
and  is  scolding,  and  threatening  to  take  him  to  the 
policeman :  the  youngster  defends  himself,  and  denies 
the  charge.  "  I  did  not  take  it,"  he  saj's  :  "  what  are 
you  licking  me  for?  let  me  go  !  "  Avdyeitch  tried  to 
separate  them.  He  took  the  boy  by  his  arm,  and 
says,  — 

"Let  him  go,  bdbushka;  forgive  him,  for  Christ*s 
sake.'* 

*'  I  will  forgive  him  so  that  he  won't  forget  till  the 
new  broom  grows.  I  am  going  to  take  the  little  villain 
to  the  police." 

Avdyeitch  began  to  entreat  the  old  woman  :  — 

**Let  him  go,  bdbushka,"  he  said:  "he  will  never 
do  it  again.     Let  him  go,  for  Christ's  sake." 

The  old  woman  let  him  loose :  the  boy  tried  to  run, 
but  Avdyeitch  kept  him  back. 

"Ask  the  bdbushka's  forgiveness,"  he  said,  "and 
don't  you  ever  do  it  again  :  I  saw  you  taking  the  apple." 

With  tears  in  his  eyes,  the  boy  began  to  ask  for- 
giveness. 

"Nu!  that's  right;    and  now,  here's  an  apple  for 


126         WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOB  IS  ALSO. 

you."  Avdy^itch  got  an  apple  from  the  basket,  and 
gave  it  to  the  boy.  "  I  will  pay  you  for  it,  babushka," 
he  said  to  the  old  woman. 

"You  ruin  them  that  wa}',  the  good-for-nothings," 
said  the  old  woman.  "  He  ought  to  be  treated  so  that 
he  would  remember  it  for  a  whole  week." 

"Eh,  bdbushka,  babushka,"  said  Ardy^itch,  "that 
is  right  according  to  our  judgment,  but  not  according 
to  God's.  If  he  is  to  be  whipped  for  an  apple,  then 
what  do  we  deserve  for  our  sins?  " 

The  old  woman  was  silent. 

Avdyeitch  told  her  the  parable  of  the  khozy4fn  who 
forgave  a  debtor  all  that  he  owed  him,  and  how  the 
debtor  went  and  began  to  choke  one  who  owed  him. 

The  old  woman  listened,  and  the  boy  stood  listening. 

"God  has  commanded  us  to  forgive,"  said  Avd- 
yeitch, "  else  we,  too,  may  not  be  forgiven.  All  should 
be  forgiven,  and  the  thoughtless  especially." 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head,  and  sighed. 

"  That's  so,"  said  she  ;  "  but  the  trouble  is,  that  they 
are  very  much  spoiled." 

"Then,  we,  who  are  older,  must  teach  them,"  said 
Avdyeitch. 

"  That's  just  what  I  say,"  remarked  the  old  woman. 
"  I  myself  had  seven  of  them,  —  only  one  daughter  is 
left."  And  the  old  woman  began  to  relate  where  and 
how  she  lived  with  her  daughter,  and  how  many  grand- 
children she  had.  "Here,"  she  says,  "my  strength 
is  onl}'  so-so,  and  yet  I  have  to  work.  I  pity  the 
youngsters  —  my  grandchildren  —  how  nice  they  are  ! 
No  one  gives  me  such  a  welcome  as  they  do.  Aksintka 
won't  go  to  any  one  but  me.  (Bdbushka,  dear  bd- 
bushka,  loveliest ")  —  and  the  old  woman  grew  quite 
sentimental. 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOD   fS  ALSO.       127 

''  Of  course,  it  is  a  childish  trick.  God  be  with 
him,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  boy. 

The  woman  was  just  about  to  lift  the  bag  upon  her 
shoulder,  when  the  boy  ran  up,  and  says,  "  Let  me 
carry  it,  bAbushka :  it  is  on  my  way." 

The  old  woman  nodded  her  head,  and  put  the  bag 
on  the  boy's  back. 

Side  by  side  they  both  passed  along  the  street.  And 
the  old  woman  even  forgot  to  ask  Avdj'^itch  to  pay  for 
the  apple. 

Avdy^itch  stood  motionless,  and  kept  gazing  after 
them ;  and  he  heard  them  talking  all  the  time  as  they 
walked  away.  After  Avdyc^itch  saw  them  disappear,  he 
returned  to  his  room ;  he  found  his  eye-glasses  on  the 
stairs,  —  they  were  not  broken  ;  he  picked  up  his  awl, 
and  sat  down  to  work  again. 

After  working  a  little  while,  it  grew  darker,  so  that 
he  could  not  see  to  sew  :  he  saw  the  lamplighter  pass- 
ing by  to  light  the  street-lamps. 

"  It  must  be  time  to  make,  a  light,"  he  thought  to 
himself ;  so  he  fixed  his  little  lamp,  hung  it  up,  and 
betook  himself  again  to  work.  He  had  one  boot  already 
finished  ;  he  turned  it  around,  looked  at  it :  "  Well  done." 
He  put  away  his  tools,  swept  off  the  cuttings,  cleared 
off  the  bristles  and  ends,  took  the  lamp,  put  it  on  the 
table,  and  took  down  the  Gospels  from  the  shelf.  He 
intended  to  open  the  book  at  the  very  place  where  he 
had  yesterday  put  a  piece  of  leather  as  a  mark,  but  it 
happened  to  open  at  another  place ;  and  the  moment 
Avdy^itch  opened  the  Testament,  he  recollected  his 
last  night's  dream.  And  as  soon  as  he  remembered 
it,  it  seemed  as  though  he  heard  some  one  stepping 
about  behind  him.  Avdy^itch  looked  around,  and  sees 
—  there,  in  the   dark  corner,  it  seemed   as    though 


128         WHERE  LOVE  IS,   THERE   GOD   IS  ALSO. 

people  were  standing :  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  who 
they  were.     And  a  voice  whispered  in  his  ear,  — 

"  Martuin  —  ah,  Martuin  !  did  you  not  recognize 
me?'* 

^'Who?''  uttered  Ardy^itch. 

''  Me,"  repeated  the  voice.  "  It's  I ;  '*  and  Stepdn- 
uitch  stepped  forth  from  the  dark  corner ;  he  smiled, 
and  like  a  little  cloud  faded  away,  and  soon  vanished. 

"And  this  is  I,"  said  the  voice.  From  the  dark 
corner  stepped  forth  the  woman  with  her  child :  the 
woman  smiled,  the  child  laughed,  and  they  also  van- 
ished. 

"  And  this  is  I,"  continued  the  voice ;  both  the 
old  woman  and  the  boy  with  the  apple  stepped  forward  ; 
both  smiled  and  vanished. 

Avdy^itch's  soul  rejoiced  :  he  crossed  himself,  put  on 
his  eye-glasses,  and  began  to  read  the  Evangelists  where 
it  happened  to  open.  On  the  upper  part  of  the  page 
he  read,  — 

"For  I  was  an  hungred,  and  ye  gave  me  meat:  I 
was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink :  1  was  a  stranger, 
and  3'e  took  me  in."  .  .   . 

And  on  the  lower  part  of  the  page  he  read  this :  — 

"Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least 
of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me  "  (St. 
Matthew,  chap.  xxv.). 

And  Avdy^itch  understood  that  his  dream  did  not 
deceive  him ;  that  the  Saviour  really  called  upon  him 
that  day,  and  that  he  really  received  him. 


A  CANDLE. 


"  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth : 

But  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil :  but  whosoever  shall  smite 
thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also."  —  Matt.  v.  38,  39. 


This  affair  took  place  in  the  da3^s  when  there  weie 
masters.  There  used  to  be  all  kinds  of  masters.  There 
were  those  who  remembered  God,  and  that  they  must 
die,  and  took  pity  on  people ;  and  there  were  dogs,  — 
excuse  the  use  of  the  term.  But  there  was  nothing 
worse  than  the  overseers,*  who  had  risen  from  serfdom. 
As  it  were,  out  of  the  mud,  they  became  princes  !  And 
they  made  life  worse  than  any  thing  else. 

There  happened  to  be  such  a  prikdshchik  on  a  pro- 
prietor's estate.  The  peasants  worked  their  share  for 
the  estate.  There  was  plenty  of  land,  and  the  land 
was  good  —  there  was  water,  and  meadows,  and  wood- 
land. There  was  enough,  and  to  spare,  for  barin  and 
muzhiks  ;  but  the  barin  made  one  of  his  house-serfs 
from  another  estate  the  prikdshchik. 

The  prikdshchik  took  the  power  on  his  hands,  and 
sat  upon  the  necks  of  the  muzhiks.  He  himself  had 
a  family,  —  a  wife,  and  two  married  daughters,  —  and 
he  had  made  money.  He  might  easily  have  lived  with- 
out sin ;  but  he  was  a  covetous  man,  and  fell  into  sin. 

*  Nachalniks. 

129 


130  A  CANDLE. 

He  began  to  compel  the  muzhiks  to  work  on  thebarin's 
estate  more  than  their  regular  day's  work.  He  started 
a  brick-3^ard :  he  wore  out  all  the  peasants,  both  babas 
and  muzhiks,  and  sold  the  bricks. 

The  muzhiks  went  to  complain  to  the  proprietor  at 
Moscow,  but  they  had  no  success.  He  dismissed  the 
muzhiks  without  any  thing,  and  did  not  curb  the  pri- 
kashchik's  power.  The  prikashchik  learned  that  the 
muzhiks  had  been  to  complain  of  him,  and  he  began  to 
vent  his  spite.  The  muzhiks  were  worse  ofif  than  be- 
fore. There  happened  to  be  false  men  among  the  muz- 
hiks, who  used  to  carry  stories  about  each  other. 
And  all  the  people  were  in  a  ferment,  and  the  prikash- 
chik kept  growing  worse  and  worse. 

As  time  went  on,  the  prikashchik  became  so  bad  that 
the  people  came  to  fear  him  worse  than  a  terrible  wild 
beast.  When  he  passed  through  the  village,  all  would 
keep  out  of  his  way  as  from  a  wolf,  hiding  wherever 
they  could,  so  as  to  keep  away  from  his  eyes.  The 
prikashchik  saw  it ;  and  the  fact  that  they  were  afraid 
of  him,  made  him  still  more  angry.  He  persecuted  the 
people,  both  by  blows  and  hard  work  ;  and  the  muzhiks 
suffered  terribly  at  his  hands. 

There  were  times  when  such  evil-doers  were  put  out 
of  the  way,  and  the  muzhiks  began  to  plan  some  such 
way  of  escape.  They  would  meet  in  some  retired  spot, 
and  the  boldest  among  them  would  say,  — 

"  Must  we  go  on  suffering  forever  from  our  persecu- 
tor?—  We  are  lost  anyhow  —  to  kill  such  a  man  is  no 
sin." 

The  muzhiks  were  one  time  gathered  in  the  forest : 
it  was  before  Holy  Week.  The  prikashchik  had  sent 
them  out  to  clear  up  the  proprietor's  forest.  They 
gathered  at  dinner,  and  began  to  talk. 


A   CANDLE.  131 

*' How  can  we  live  now?*'  they  said.  ''He  will 
destroy  us  root  and  branch.  He  tortures  us  with  work  : 
neither  we  nor  the  babas  have  any  rest  day  or  night 
any  more.  The  least  thing  not  to  his  mind,  and  he 
finds  fault,  he  lashes  us.  Semyon  died  under  his  whip, 
Anisim  was  tortured  in  the  stocks.  What  else  can  we 
expect?  He  will  come  here  this  evening;  he  will  be 
making  trouble  again  ;  let's  just  pull  him  off  from  his 
horse,  give  him  a  blow  with  ihe  axe,  and  that'll  be  the 
end  of  it.  We'll  bury  him  somewhere  like  a  dog,  and 
there'll  be  no  clew.  Onl}'  one  condition  :  we  must  all 
stand  together  —  not  peach." 

Thus  spoke  Vasili  Minaef.  He  was  more  than  all 
the  rest  incensed  against  the  prikashchik,  who  had 
whipped  him  every  week,  robbed  him  of  his  wife,  tak- 
ing her  as  his  cook. 

Thus  talked  the  muzhiks :  in  the  evening  the  pri- 
kdshchik  came ;  he  was  on  horseback :  as  soon  as  he 
came,  he  began  to  find  fault  with  their  work.  He  dis- 
covered a  little  linden  in  the  pile. 

"  I,"  says  he,  "  did  not  tell  you  to  cut  the  lindens. 
Who  cut  it  down?     Confess,  or  I'll  lash  you  all !  " 

He  began  to  inquire  in  whose  pile  the  linden  was. 
They  told  him  it  was  Sidor's.  The  prikdshchik 
beat  Sidor's  face  till  it  bled.  Then  he  lashed  Vasili 
Tatar  fashion  because  his  pile  was  small :  then  he 
started  home. 

In  the  evening  the  muzhiks  met  again,  and  Vasili 
was  the  spokesman. 

"  Ekh  !  What  people  you  are  !  Not  men,  but  spar- 
rows !  'We'll  stand  together,  we'll  stand  together! ' 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  point,  all  rush  under  the  pent- 
roof.  Thus  spaiTows  try  to  fight  a  hawk :  '  Don't 
peach,  don't  peach,  we'll  stand  together! '     But  when 


132  A   CANDLE. 

he  swooped  down  on  us,  all  scattered  in  the  grass ! 
And  so  the  hawk  caught  the  one  he  wanted,  carried 
it  off.  The  sparrows  hopped  out :  '  Cheeveek !  cheeveek ! ' 
There  is  one  missing!  'Who  is  gone?'  Vdnka,  eh! 
That's  his  road,  let  him  go !  He  deserves  it.  The 
same  way  witli  you.  If  you  ain't  going  to  peach,  then 
don't  peach.  When  he  seized  Sidor,  you  should  have 
clubbed  together,  and  put  an  end  to  him.  But  still  it 
is,  '  Don't  peach,  don't  peacli !  we'll  stand  together! ' 
But  when  he  swooped  down,  all  flew  into  the  bushes  ! " 

Thus  they  spoke  more  and  more  often,  and  at  last 
the  muzhiks  determined  to  do  away  with  the  prikash- 
chik.  On  Good  Friday  the  prikilshchik  announced  to 
the  muzhiks  that  they  must  be  ready  to  plough  for  the 
barin  at  Easter,  so  as  to  sow  the  oats.  This  seemed  to 
the  muzhiks  an  insult ;  and  on  Good  F'rida}'  they  gath- 
ered at  Vasili's,  in  the  back-yard,  and  began  to  talk 
again. 

"Since  he  has  forgotten  God,"  say  they,  "and 
wants  to  do  such  things,  we  must  really  kill  him.  We 
are  ruined  anyway." 

Piotr  Mikh^'eef  also  came  with  them.  Piotr  Mi- 
khy^ef  was  a  peace-loving  muzhik,  and  did  not  agree 
with  the  muzhiks.  Mikhyeef  came,  heard  their  talk, 
and  says,  — 

"You  are  meditating  a  great  sin,  brethren.  To 
destroy  a  soul  is  a  great  crime.  To  destroy  another 
man's  soul  is  easy,  but  how  about  your  own?  He  does 
wrong  :  it  is  bad  for  him.    Brethren,  we  must  bear  it." 

Vasili  was  angry  at  these  words.  "  He  keeps  repeat- 
ing the  same  thing  over  and  over,"  says  he:  "'It's 
a  sin  to  kill  a  man !  You  know  it  is  a  sin  to  kill  such  a 
man,'  sa3^s  he.  It  is  a  sin  to  kill  a  good  man,  but  even 
God  has  commanded  to  kill  such  a  dog.     You  must 


A  CANDLE.  133 

kill  a  mad  dog,  out  of  pity  for  men ;  and  not  to  kill 
him,  would  be  a  greater  sin.  Why  does  he  ruin  peo- 
ple ?  But  though  we  should  suffer  for  it,  we  ought  to  do 
it  for  others o  People  will  thank  us.  And  to  get  rid  of 
such  spittle !  He  is  ruining  everybody.  You  talk  non- 
sense, Mikhy^itch,  Why,  it  would  be  less  of  a  sin  than 
for  all  to  go  to  work  on  Easter  Sunday.  You  yourself 
would  not  go." 

And  Mikhy^itch  replied,  — 

"Why  not  go?"  he  asked.  "They  will  send  us, 
and  I  am  going  to  plough.  Not  for  myself.  But 
God  knows  whose  sin  it  is,  only  we  should  not  forget 
him.  I,  brethren,"  says  he,  "don't  speak  my  own 
thoughts.  If  we  had  been  commanded  to  do  evil  for 
evil,  there  would  have  been  a  law  from  God  to  that 
effect ;  but  just  the  opposite  is  commanded  us.  You 
will  do  evil,  but  it  will  come  back  upon  you.  It  is  wicked 
to  kill  a  man.  His  blood  will  stick  in  your  soul. 
Kill  a  man  —  you  stain  your  own  soul  with  blood. 
You  think,  'I  have  killed  a  bad  man.*  You  think, 
'I  have  destroyed  a  pest.'  On  the  contrary,  look, 
you  have  been  led  into  doing  a  much  worse  sin 
to  yourself.  Yield  to  fate,  and  fate  will  3  ield  to 
you." 

And  so  the  muzhiks  did  not  agree  :  they  were  divided 
by  their  thoughts.  Some  have  the  same  opinion  as 
Vasilyef :  others  coincide  with  the  views  of  Piotr,  that 
they  should  not  attempt  the  sin,  but  bear  it. 

The  muzhiks  were  celebrating  the  firet  of  the  holi- 
days, Sunday.  At  evening  comes  the  village  elder,^ 
with  police  from  the  master's  country-seat,  and  they 
say, — 

** Mikhail   Semjonovitch,  the   overseer,^  has  given 

»  Stdroita.  *  Frikdehchik, 


134  A  CANDLE. 

orders  that  all  the  mnzhiks  prepare  on  the  morrow  to 
plough  in  the  oat- field. 

The  village  elder  went  round  with  the  police  through 
the  village,  gave  the  orders  for  all  to  go  out  and  plough 
the  next  day,  calling  to  this  one  on  the  river,  this  one 
from  the  high-road.  The  muzhiks  wept,  but  dared  not 
disobey.  In  the  morning  they  came  with  their  ploughs,^ 
began  to  plough. 

At  church  the  early  morning-mass  is  going  on,  the 
people  eveiywhere  are  celebrating  the  festival :  our 
muzhiks  are  ploughing ! 

Mikhail  Semyonovitch,  the  overseer,  woke  up  not 
very  early,  and  rode  over  to  the  f arm  :  his  people  were 
dressed,  and  had  on  their  finery  —  his  wife,  his  widowed 
daughter  (she  had  come  for  the  festival)  ;  a  workman 
harnessed  for  them  the  little  tely^ga  ;  they  went  off  to 
mass ;  they  returned ;  the  serving-woman  put  on  the 
samovar ;  Mikhail  Semyonovitch  came  in ;  they  began 
their  tea-drinking. 

After  Mikhail  Semyonovitch  had  drunk  enough  tea, 
he  lighted  his  pipe,  called  the  village  elder. 

*' Well,  then,^  did  you  set  the  muzhiks  to  plough- 
ing?- 

"  I  did,  Mikhail  Semyonovitch.** 

''What!  did  all  go?** 

*'  All  went :  I  myself  set  them  at  it.** 

''  Setting  them  at  work  is  all  ver}'  well,  but  are  they 
ploughing?  Go  out  and  look,  and  tell  them  that  I  am 
coming  after  dinner  to  see  if  they  have  been  ploughing  a 
des3'atin  to  every  two  ploughs,  and  ploughing  it  well, 
besides.  If  I  find  any  mistake,  1  sha'n*t  hear  to  any 
festival.** 

"  All  right.*' 

SokhL  s  Nu  tchto  moL 


A   CANDLE.  135 

And  the  village  elder  had  started,  but  Mikhail 
Semyonovitch  called  him  back :  he  hesitates,  wants  to 
say  something,  but  knows  not  how. 

He  hesitated  and  hesitated,  and  now  he  says,  — 

''  Now,  here,  I  want  you  to  listen  to  what  those  vil- 
lains are  saying  about  me.  Who  is  grumbling,  and 
what  he  says,  —  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  know  those 
villains ;  they  don't  like  to  work ;  unless  I  punch  'em 
in  the  side,  they  would  be  wandering  about.  They 
like  to  gormandize  and  have  holidays,  but  they  don't 
think  that  you'll  put  off  the  ploughing.  Now,  then,  you 
just  listen  to  their  talk,  what  any  one  says,  and  just 
report  it  to  me.  I  must  know  about  it.  Go  along  and 
notice,  and  tell  me  all,  and  don't  hide  anything." 

The  village  elder  turned  round,  went  off,  mounted 
his  horse,  and  rode  off  to  the  muzhiks  in  the 
field. 

The  overseer's  wife  had  heard  her  husband's  talk 
with  fhe  village  elder,  and  came  to  her  husband,  and 
began  to  question  him.  The  prikdshchitsa  was  a  peace- 
loving  woman,  and  her  heart  was  tender.  Where  it 
was  possible,  she  restrained  her  husband,  and  stood  up 
for  the  muzhiks. 

She  came  to  her  husband,  and  began  to  question 
him :  — 

"  My  dear  Mishenka,"  ^  says  she,  "  on  the  great  day, 
the  festival  of  the  Lord,  don't  commit  a  sin  ;  for  Christ's 
sake,  let  the  muzhiks  off !  '' 

Mikhail  Semyonovitch  did  not  take  his  wife's  words  : 
he  only  began  to  laugh  at  her. 

*'  It's  a  long  time,  isn't  it,"  says  he,  "  since  you  had 
a  little  taste  of  the  whip,  that  you  dare  mix  yourself 
up  with  other  people's  affairs?  " 

*■  Diminutive  of  Mikhail. 


136  A   CANDLE. 

''  Mishenka,  my  love,  I  had  a  bad  dream  about  you : 
heed  me  ;  let  the  muzhiks  off !  " 

''  And  I,  too,  have  something  to  say,"  says  he :  "if 
you  give  me  much  of  your  sauce,  the  whip  will  bring 
you  to  reason.  Look  out !  "  Semyonovitch  got  angry, 
thrust  his  lighted  pipe  into  his  wife's  teeth,  pushed  her 
away,  ordered  dinner  brought  him. 

Mikhai'l  Semyonovitch  ate  some  cold  meat,  a  pirog, 
cabbage-soup  with  pork,  roast  slioat,  vermicelli  cooked 
in  milk ;  he  drank  some  cherry-wine,  tasted  a  sweet 
pie,  called  up  the  cook,  set  her  to  performing  some 
songs  ;  and  he  himself  took  his  guitar,  and  began  to  play 
the  accompaniments. 

Mikhail  Semyonovitch  is  sitting  in  a  gay  frame  of 
mind,  belches,  thrums  on  the  strings,  and  jests  with 
the  cook. 

The  village  elder  came  in,  bowed  low,  and  began  to 
report  what  he  had  seen  in  the  field. 

*'  Well,  then,^  are  they  ploughing?  Are  they  "finish- 
ing their  stint?'* 

"They  have  already  done  more  than  half  of  the 
ploughing." 

"  None  left  undone?  " 

"  I  did  not  see  any  ;  they  plough  very  well ;  they  are 
afraid." 

"  Well,  does  the  ground  turn  up  well?  " 

"  The  ground  turns  up  easily,  as  the  poppy  has  been 
scattered." 

The  overseer  was  silent. 

"Well,  and  what  do  they  say  about  me?  do  they 
revile  me?" 

The  stdrosta  began  to  stammer,  but  Mikhail  Sem- 
yonovitch bade  him  tell  the  whole  truth.    "  Tell  me  all : 

»  2{u  tcMo, 


A   CANDLE.  137 

you  won't  be  speaking  your  own  words,  but  somebody 
else's.  If  you  tell  the  truth,  I  will  reward  you  ;  but  if 
you  deceive  me,  look  out !  I  will  pickle  you  !  Yay, 
Kdtrusha,  give  him  a  glass  of  vodka  to  keep  his  courage 
up." 

The  cook  came,  offered  him  the  brandy.  The  vil- 
lage elder  thanked  her,  drank  it  up,  wiped  his  lips,  and 
began  to  speak  :  — 

'*  All  the  same,"  thinks  he,  '^  'tisn't  my  fault  that 
they  don't  praise  him.  I  will  tell  the  truth,  since  he 
tells  me  to."  And  the  stdrosta  plucks  up  courage, and 
begins  to  speak  :  — 

"  They  grumble,  Mikhail  Semyonovitch,  they  grum- 
ble." 

*'  Yes  ;  but  what  do  they  say?    Tell  me." 

*'  They  say  just  one  thing :  '  He  does  not  believe  in 
God.'  " 

The  prikdshchik  sneered. 

"Who  says  that?" 

''They  all  say  it.  They  say,  '  He  has  sold  himself 
to  the  Devil.'  " 

The  prikdshchik  laughs. 

"That,"  says  he,  "is  excellent:  now  tell  me  indi- 
vidually who  says  that.     Does  Vdska  say  so?  " 

The  stdrosta  did  not  want  to  tell  on  his  own  people, 
but  there  had  been  a  quarrel  between  Vasili  and  the 
stdrosta  for  a  long  time. 

"Vasili,"  says  he,  "scolds  worse  than  any  one 
else." 

"  Yes  :  what  does  he  say?    Speak  it  out." 

"  But  it  is  terrible  to  tell  —  even  to  tell  it.  He  says, 
*  You  won't  escape  a  violent  death.'  " 

"Ay!  the  brave  fellow !  I  suppose  he's  dawdling 
round!     He  won't  kill  me  —  his  hands  won't  reach 


138  A  CANDLE. 

me!  Just  wait!"  says  he,  ''V^ska!  we'll  be  quits 
with  you  !  Now,  how  about  Tishka?  That  dog  also, 
I  suppose  ? ' ' 

*'  Yes  :  they  all  speak  bad." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  do  they  say?  " 

*'  Well,  they  say  something  abominable." 

''  What  was  abominable?     Don't  be  afraid  to  tell." 

"  Well,^  they  say  that  your  belly  will  break  open, 
and  3'our  bowels  gush  out." 

Mikhail  Semyouovitch  was  delighted  :  he  burst  into  a 
horse-laugh. 

''We  will  see  whose  does  first!  Who  says  that? 
Tishka?" 

"  No  one  said  any  thing  good  :  all  growl,  all  are  full 
of  threats." 

"  Well,2  but  how  about  P^trushka  Mikhy^ef  ?  What 
does  he  say?  The  gobbler!  he  growls  also,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  No,  Mikhailo  Sem3'6novitch.  Pyotra  does  not  com- 
plain." 

"What  does  he?'* 

"  He  is  the  only  one  of  all  the  muzhiks  that  saj's 
nothing.  He  is  a  clever  muzhik.  I  wondered  at  him, 
Mikhail  Semyouovitch." 

"But  why?" 

"  At  what  he  did ;  and  all  the  muzhiks  wondered  at 
him." 

"But  what  did  he  do?" 

"Yes,  it  was  very  queer.  I  tried  to  get  near  him. 
He  is  ploughing  on  the  desydtin  on  Turkin  height.  I 
tried  to  get  near  him.  I  hear  him  singing  something : 
he  is  carrying  something  gingerly,  carefully ;  and  on 
his  plough,  between  the  handles,  something  is  shining." 


A  CANDLE.  139 

"Well?'' 

"It  is  exactly  like  a  little  fire,  shining.  I  come 
nearer  ;  I  look  ;  a  little  wax  candle  —  cost  five  kopeks 
—  is  stuck  on  to  the  cross-bar,  and  is  burning ;  and  the 
wind  doesn't  blow  it  out.  And  he,  in  his  clean  shirt, 
goes  up  and  down,  ploughing,  and  singing  Sunday 
songs.  And  his  cuffs  are  turned  up,  and  he  shakes, 
and  the  candle  doesn't  go  out.  He  shook  before  me, 
turned  the  club,  lifted  the  plough,  and  all  the  time  the 
candle  burns,  and  doesn't  go  out." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Well,^  he  didn't  say  an}-  thing,  only  looked  at  me, 
crossed  himself,  and  began  to  sing  again." 

"  But  what  did  you  say  to  him?  " 

"  I  did  not  speak :  but  the  muzhiks  came  up,  and 
they  began  to  make  sport  of  him ;  here  they  saj', 
'  Mikhyeitch,  in  an  age  of  sin,  you  won't  get  off  by 
praying  because  you  ploughed  on  Sunday.'  " 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  He  only  said,  '  On  earth,  peace,  good  will  to  men.' 
Again  he  took  hold  of  the  plough,  started  up  the  horse, 
and  sang  in  a  low  voice ;  but  the  candle  burns,  and 
doesn't  go  out." 

The  overseer  ceased  to  make  ridicule,  laid  down  the 
guitar,  hung  his  head,  and  fell  into  thought. 

He  kept  sitting  there,  and  sitting  there  ;  then  he  sent 
out  the  cook  and  the  stdrosta,  and  went  to  the  curtain  ; 
lay  down  on  the  bed,  and  began  to  sigh,  began  to 
groan,  as  though  a  cart-load  of  sheaves  lay  on  him. 
His  wife  came  to  him,  began  to  talk  with  him :  he  did 
not  reply  to  her.     Only  he  said, — 

"  He  has  conquered  me.     Now  it's  my  turn." 

His  wife  began  to  say  to  him,  "  Yes,  go  and  let 
*  2?a. 


140  A   CANDLE. 

them  off.  Perhaps  there's  no  harm.  No  matter  what 
you  have  done,  don't  be  afraid ;  for  what  is  there  to 
be  afraid  of  now?  " 

*'I  am  lost,"  he  said:  "he  has  conquered  me;" 
and  he  kept  repeating,  "  He  has  conquered,  con- 
quered!  " 

His  wife  shouted  to  him,  — 

"  Go  ahead  !  let  the  muzhiks  go,  then  it  will  be  all 
right.     Go  ahead,  I  will  saddle  the  horse." 

She  got  out  the  horse ;  and  the  prikdshchitsa  urged 
her  husband  to  go  out  to  the  field,  and  let  the  muzhiks 

go- 
Mikhail  Semyonovitch  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
out  to  the  field.  He  came  to  the  neighborhood  ;  a  baba 
opened  the  gate  for  him  ;  he  rode  into  the  village."  As 
soon  as  the  people  saw  the  prikashchik,  all  the  people 
hid  themselves  from  him,  one  in  a  door,  another  in  a 
corner,  another  in  a  garden. 

The  prikashchik  rode  through  the  whole  village :  he 
came  to  other  horse-gates.  The  gates  were  shut,  and 
he  could  not  open  them  on  horse-back.  He  shouted, 
the  prikdshchik  shouted  for  some  one  to  open  for  him, 
but  no  one  came.  Getting  down  from  his  horse,  he 
opened  the  gate  himself,  and  tried  to  mount  again.  He 
lifted  his  foot  to  the  stirrup,  tried  to  swing  himself 
into  the  saddle ;  but  the  horse  took  fright  at  a  pig, 
sprang  against  the  paling :  and  the  man  was  heavy  ;  he 
could  not  spring  into  the  saddle,  and  was  thrown  on  his 
belly  against  the  paling.  There  was  only  one  sharp 
pole  that  stood  out  above  the  fence,  and  this  was  higher 
than  the  others.  And  he  fell  on  his  belly  straight  on 
this  pole.  And  it  ripped  open  his  belly,  and  he  fell  on 
the  ground. 

The  muzhiks  came  hurrying  from  the  ploughing  ;  they 


A   CANDLE.  141 

were  saying  sharp  things  :  as  their  horses  turn  into  the 
gate,  the  niiizhiks  see  that  Mikhail  Sem3'6novitch  is 
lying  on  his  back,  his  arms  stretched  out,  and  his  eyes 
fixed,  and  his  insides  gushed  out  over  the  ground,  and 
his  blood  making  a  pool  —  the  earth  would  not  drink 
it. 

The  muzhiks  were  frightened  ;  they  drive  the  horses  : 
only  Piotr  Mikhy^itch  dismounts,  goes  to  the  overseer, 
sees  that  he  is  dead,  closes  his  eyes,  harnesses  the 
tely^ga,  helps  the  dead  man's  son  to  put  him  in  a  box, 
and  carries  him  to  the  manor-hojuse. 

The  barin  learned  about  all  these  things,  and  forgave 
the  muzhiks  their  tax. 

And  the  muzhiks  learned  that  God's  power  works 
not  by  sin,  but  by  goodness. 


TWO  OLD  MEN. 


**  The  woman  saith  unto  him,  Sir,  T  perceive  that  thou  art  a  prophet. 

Our  fathers  worshipped  in  this  mountain;  and  ye  say,  that  in  Jerusalem 
is  the  place  where  men  ought  to  worship. 

Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh,  when  ye  shall 
neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,  worship  the  Father. 

Ye  worship  ye  know  not  what :  we  know  what  we  worship :  for  salvation 
is  of  the  Jews. 

But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is,  when  the  true  worshippers  shall 
worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth:  for  the  Father  secketh  such  to 
worship  him."  — John  iv.  19-23. 

Two  old  men  resolved  to  worship  God  in  ancient 
Jerusalem.  One  was  a  rich  muzhik ;  his  name  was 
Yeflm  Tardsuitch  Shevolef :  the  other  was  not  a  rich 
man/ — Yelisei  Bodrof. 

Yefim  was  a  sedate  muzhik ;  did  not  drink  vodka, 
nor  smoke  tobacco,  nor  take  snuff.  All  his  life  long 
he  had  never  used  a  bad  word,  and  he  was  a  strict  and 
upright  man.  Two  terms  Yefim  had  served  as  stdr- 
osta,  and  had  come  out  without  a  deficit.^ 

His  family  was  large, — two  sons  and  a  married  grand- 
son, —  and  all  lived  together.  As  for  himself,  he  was 
hale,  long-bearded,  erect,  and,  though  he  was  in  his 
seventh  decade,  his  beard  was  only  beginning  to  grow 
gi*ay. 

1  The  stdrosta,  or  starshina,  is  president  of  the  village  council,  and  held 
•ccountable  for  the  taxes  levied  on  thernir,  or  commune. 

142 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  143 

Yelis^i  was  a  little  old  man,  neither  rich  nor  poor : 
in  former  times  he  had  gone  about  doing  jobs  in  car- 
pentry ;  but  now,  as  he  grew  old,  he  began  to  stay  at 
home,  and  took  to  raising  bees.  One  of  his  sons  had 
gone  away  to  work,  the  other  was  at  home.  Yelisei 
was  a  good-natured  and  jolly  man.  He  used  to  drink 
vodka,  and  take  snuff,  and  he  liked  to  sing  songs ;  but 
he  was  a  peaceable  man,  and  lived  amicably  with  his 
family  and  his  neighbors.  As  to  his  person,  Yelisei 
was  a  short,  darkish  little  muzhik,  with  a  curly  beard ; 
and  like  his  name-saint,  Elisha  the  prophet,  he  was 
entirely  bald. 

The  old  men  had  long  ago  promised  and  agreed  to 
go  together,  but  Tardsuitch  had  never  found  the  lei- 
sure :  his  engagements  had  never  come  to  an  end.  As 
soon  as  one  was  through  with,  another  began :  first 
the  grandson  got  married ;  then  they  expected  the 
younger  son  from  the  army ;  and  then,  again,  he 
planned  to  build  a  new  izbd. 

One  festival  day  the  old  men  met,  and  were  sitting  in 
the  sun. 

"  Well,'*  says  Yelisei,  "  when  shall  we  set  out,  and 
fulfil  our  promise?  " 

Yefim  knit  his  brow. 

''We  must  wait  a  while,"  says  he.  "This  year 
it'll  come  hard  for  me.  I  am  engaged  in  building  this 
izbd.  I  counted  on  spending  about  a  hundred  rubles  ; 
but  I'm  already  on  the  third,  and  it  isn't  finished 
yet.  You  see,  that'll  take  till  summer.  In  the  sum- 
mer, if  God  grants,  we  will  go  without  let  or  hinder- 
ance." 

"•According  to  my  idea,"  says  Yelisei,  "  we  ought 
not  to  put  it  off :  we  ought  to  go  to-day.  It's  the  very 
time — spring." 


144  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

"  Time,  certainly  :  but  this  work  is  begun  ;  how  can  I 
leav;^it?" 

*' Haven't  you  any  one?  Your  son  will  attend  to 
it." 

"How  attend  to  it?  My  eldest  sou  is  not  to  be 
trusted  —  he  gets  drunk." 

''  We  shall  die,  old  friend :  they'll  have  to  live  with- 
out us.    Your  son  must  learn." 

*'  That's  so ;  but  I  should  like,  with  my  own  eyes,  to 
see  this  job  finished  !  " 

''  Ekh !  my  dear  man,  you  will  never  get  all  you 
want  done.  Only  the  other  day  at  my  house^  the  babas 
were  cleaning  house,  fixing  up  for  Easter.  And  both 
are  necessary,  but  you'd  never  get  through.  And  my 
oldest  daughter-in-law,  a  sensible  baba,  says,  '  Thank 
the  Lord,'  says  she,  '  Easter  is  coming :  it  doesn't  wai+-. 
for  us,  else,'  sa^^s  she,  '  they  would  never  get  done 
never  finish  it  all.'  " 

Tarasuitch  was  lost  in  thought. 

''I  have  put  a  good  deal  of  monc}^,"  says  he,  "into 
this  building ;  and  we  can't  go  on  this  journey  with 
empty  hands.  It  won't  take  less  than  one  hundred 
rubles." 

Yelis^i"  laughed  out,  — 

"  Don't  make  a  mistake,  old  friend,"  says  he  :  "  you 
have  ten  times  as  much  property  as  I  have.  And  you 
talk  about  money  !  Only  say  when  shall  we  go  ?  I 
haven't  any  thing,  but  I'll  get  some." 

Tardsuitch  also  smiled.  "  How  rich  you  seem  I  " 
says  he  ;  "  but  where  will  you  get  it?  " 

"Well,  I'll  scrape  some  up  at  home  —  that'll  be 
something  :  and  for  the  rest, — I'll  let  my  neighbor  have 
ten  of  my  hives.  He  has  been  after  them  for  a  long 
time." 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  145 

*'  This  is  going  to  be  a  good  swarming-year :  you'll 
regret  it." 

"  Regret  it?  No,  old  friend.  I  never  regretted  any 
thing  in  my  life  except  my  sins.  There  is  nothing 
more  precious  than  the  soul !  " 

"  That's  so.  But  it's  not  pleasant  when  things 
aren't  right  at  home." 

"  But  how  will  it  be  with  us  if  our  souls  are  not 
right?  Then  it  will  be  worse.  But  we  have  made  a 
vow  —  let  us  go!     I  beg  of  you,  let  us  go!  " 


146  TWO  OLD  MEN. 


n. 

And  Yelisci  talked  over  his  crony.  Yefim  thought 
about  it,  and  thought  about  it ;  and  in  the  morning  he 
came  to  Yelisci:  ''Well,  then,^  let  us  go,"  says  he. 
"  You  are  right.  In  death  and  in  life,  God  rules.  Since 
we  are  alive,  and  have  strength,  we  must  go." 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  old  men  had  made  their 
preparations. 

Tardsuitch  had  money  in  the  house.  He  took  one 
hundred  rubles  for  his  journey :  two  hundred  he  left  for 
the  old  woman. 

Yelisci  also  was  ready.  He  sold  his  neighbor  the  ten 
bee-hives.  And  the  bees  that  would  swarm  from  the 
ten  hives,  also  he  sold  to  the  neighbor.  He  received, 
all  told,  seventy  rubles.  The  thirty  rubles  remaining 
in  the  house,  he  took  from  its  hiding-place.  The  old 
woman  gave  him  all  that  she  had  saved  up  against  her 
funeral :  the  daughter-in-law  gave  hers. 

Yefim  Tardsuitch  gave  all  his  commands  to  his  old- 
est son,  —  what  meadows  to  rent  out,  and  where  to  put 
manure,  and  how  to  finish  and  roof  in  the  izbd.  He 
thought  about  every  thing,  he  fore-ordered  every  thing. 

But  Yelisei  only  directed  his  old  woman  to  hive  the 
young  swarms  of  bees  that  he  had  sold,  and  give 
them  to  his  neighbor  without  any  trickery ;  but  about 
household  affairs,  he  did  not  have  any  thing  to  say  :  "  If 
any  thing  comes  up,  let  them  attend  to  it.  You  people 
at  home'^  do  as  you  think  best." 

1  Tchto-sh.  «  Khozyaeva. 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  147 

The  old  men  were  now  ready.  The  folks  baked  a 
lot  of  flat-cakes,^  sewed  some  bags,  cut  new  leg-wrap- 
pers:^ they  put  on  new  boots,  took  some  extra  bast- 
shoes  {lapti),  and  set  forth.  The  folks  kept  them 
company  to  the  common  pasture,  wished  them  good-by, 
and  the  old  men  set  out  on  their  journey. 

Yelise'i  set  out  in  good  spirits  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  left 
the  village,  he  forgot  all  about  his  cares.  His  only 
thoughts  were  how  to  please  his  companion,  how  not  to 
say  a  single  churlish  word  to  any  one,  and  how  to  go  in 
peace  and  love  to  the  (Holy)  Places  and  return  home. 
Yelis^i  walks  along  the  road,  and  all  the  time  he  either 
whispers  a  prayer,  or  calls  to  memory  some  saint's  life 
which  he  knows.  And  if  he  meets  any  one  on  the 
road,  or  comes  to  any  halting-place,  he  makes  him- 
self useful  and  as  agreeable  as  possible  to  every  one, 
and  even  says  a  word  in  God's  service.  He  goes  his 
way  rejoicing.  One  thing  Yelis^i  cannot  do.  He  in- 
tended to  give  up  snuff-taking,  and  he  left  his  snuff- 
box ;  but  it  was  melancholj'.  A  man  on  the  road  gave 
him  some.  And  now  and  again  he  drops  behind  his 
companion,  so  as  not  to  l-ead  him  into  temptation,  and 
takes  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

Yeflm  TarAsuitch  also  gets  along  well  —  sturdily: 
he  does  nothing  wicked,  and  he  says  nothing  churlish, 
but  he  is  not  easy  in  his  mind.  He  cannot  get  out  of 
his  mind  his  household  affairs.  He  keeps  thinking 
of  what  is  doing  at  home.  Had  he  forgotten  to  give 
his  son  some  commands?  and  is  his  son  doing  as  he 
was  told?  If  he  sees  any  one  by  the  road  planting  pota- 
toes, or  spreading  manure,  he  would  think,  "  Is  my  son 
doing  what  I  told  him  ?  "  He  was  almost  ready  to  tu 
round  and  show  him  how,  and  even  do  it  himself. 

1  LepydnhkL 

*  Onutchi.    Strips  of  cloth  used  by  the  muzhiks  instead  of  stockings. 


148  TWO  OLD  MEN. 


III. 


Five  weeks  the  old  men  had  been  journeying  ;  their 
home-made  lapti  were  worn  out,  and  they  had  been 
obliged  to  buj'  new  ones  ;  and  they  came  to  the  land  of 
the  Top-Knots  (Little  Russia).  From  the  time  that 
they  left  home,  they  had  paid  for  lodging  and  meals  ; 
but  now  that  they  had  come  among  the  Top-Knots,  the 
people  began  to  vie  with  each  other  in  giving  them  in- 
vitations. And  they  gave  them  shelter,  and  fed  them, 
and  would  not  take  money  from  them,  but  even  put 
bread,  and  sometimes  flat-cakes,  into  their  bags  for 
the  journey.  Thus  the  old  men  journeyed  nearly  seven 
hundred  (versts).  They  passed  through  this  govern- 
ment, and  came  to  a  famine-stricken  place. 

As  for  taking  them  in,  they  took  them  in ;  and  they 
would  not  take  pay  for  lodging,  but  they  could  no 
longer  feed  them.  And  they  did  not  always  let  them  have 
bread ;  and,  again,  it  was  not  always  to  be  obtained 
at  all.  The  year  before,  so  the  people  said,  nothing 
had  grown.  Those  who  were  rich  had  been  ruined, 
and  forced  to  sell  out ;  those  who  lived  in  medium 
st3'le  had  come  down  to  nothing ;  but  the  poor  had 
either  gone  away  altogether,  or  had  come  upon  the 
commune,^  or  had  almost  perished  in  their  homes.  All 
winter  they  had  been  living  on  husks  and  pig-weed. 

One  time  the  old  men  put  up  at  a  little  place  ;  they 
bought  fifteen  pounds  of  bread  ;  and,  having  spent  the 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  149 

Dight,  they  started  off  betimes,  so  as  to  get  as  far  as 
possible  before  the  heat  of  the  day.  They  went  ten 
versts,  and  reached  a  little  river :  they  sat  down,  filled 
their  cups  with  water,  moistened  the  little  loaves,  and 
changed  their  shoes.  They  sat  some  time  resting. 
Yelis^i  got  out  his  little  snuff-horn.  Tardsuitch  shook 
his  head  at  him. 

*'  Why,'*  says  he,  "  don't  you  throw  away  that  nasty 
stuff?" 

Yelis6i  wrung  his  hands.  "  The  sin  is  too  strong  for 
me,"  says  he  :  "what  can  you  do?  " 

They  got  up,  and  went  on  their  way.  They  went 
half  a  score  of  versts  farther.  They  came  to  a  great 
village  :  they  went  right  through  it.  And  already  it 
had  grown  hot.  Yelisei  was  dead  with  fatigue ;  he 
wanted  to  rest,  and  have  a  drink  :  but  Tarasuitch  does 
not  halt.  Tardsuitch  was  the  stronger  in  walking,  and 
it  was  rather  hard  for  Yelisei  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"  I'd  like  a  drink,"  says  he. 

"  All  right.     Get  a  drink.     I  don't  want  any." 

Yelisei  stopped. 

'*  Don't  wait,"  sajs  he  :  "  I'm  only  going  to  run  in 
for  a  minute  here  at  this  hut,  and  get  a  drink.  I'll 
overtake  3'ou  in  a  jiffy." 

'^All  right." 

And  Yefim  Tarasuitch  proceeded  on  his  wa}^  alone, 
and  Yelisei  turned  back  to  the  hut. 

Yelisei  went  up  to  the  hut.  The  hut  was  small,  and 
plastered  with  mud  :  below,  it  was  black  ;  above,  white. 
The  clay  was  peeling  off  ;  long,  apparently,  since  it  had 
been  mended :  and  the  roof  in  one  place  was  broken 
through.  The  way  to  the  hut  led  through  the  dvor. 
Yelisei  went  into  the  dvor,  and  sees,  lying  on  a  pile 
of  earth,  a  thin,  beardless  man,  in  shirt  and  drawers 


150  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

—  ill  Little  Russian  fashion.  The  man  evidently  had 
lain  down  when  it  was  cool,  but  the  sun  beat  straight 
down  upon  him.  And  he  lies  there,  and  is  not  asleep. 
Yelis^i  shouted  to  him  ;  asked  him  for  a  drink.  The 
man  made  no  reply. 

''  Either  he's  sick  or  he's  ugly,"  thought  Yelis^i,  and 
he  went  to  the  door.  He  hears  children  crying  in  the 
hut.  Yelisei  rapped  with  the  ring:  "Masters."  ^  No 
replj'.  He  rapped  again  on  the  door  with  his  staff: 
"  Christians  f"''^ 

No  one  moved.  "Servants  of  God!"  No  one 
answers.  Yelisei  was  about  to  proceed  on  his  way, 
but  he  listens :  some  one  seems  to  be  groaning  behind 
the  door. 

"Can  some  misfortune  have  befallen  these  people? 
Must  look  and  see." 

And  Yelisei  went  into  the  hut. 

1  Khozydeva.  *  KreshcWnuie;  literally,  Ye  baptized! 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  151 


IV. 


Yelisei  turned  the  ring  —  it  wasn't  locked.  He 
opened  the  door,  and  passed  through  the  little  vesti- 
bule. The  door  to  the  hut  stood  open  ;  at  the  left 
was  an  oven  ;  straight  ahead  was  the  corner ;  in  the 
corner,  the  shrine,  a  table  ;  by  the  table,  a  bench ;  on 
the  bench,  an  old  woman,  in  a  single  shirt,  with  dis- 
hevelled hair,  is  sitting,  resting  her  head  on  the  table. 
At  her  elbow  an  emaciated  little  boy,  pale  as  wax,  with 
a  distended  belly,  is  tugging  at  the  old  woman's  sleeve, 
and  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  asking  for  some- 
thing. 

Yelis^i  went  into  the  hut.  In  the  hut,  the  air  was  sti- 
fling ;  he  looks  ;  behind  the  oven,  on  a  shelf,  a  woman 
is  lying.  She  lies  on  her  back,  and  does  not  look  up  ; 
only  moans,  and  sometimes  stretches  out  her  leg,  some- 
times draws  it  up  again.  And  she  throws  herself  from 
side  to  side,  and  the  stench  arising  from  her  shows  that 
she  has  been  shamefully  neglected.  The  old  woman 
raised  her  head,  and  looked  at  the  man. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  says  she.  ''What  do  you 
want?     We  hain't  got  nothing  for  you."  ^ 

Yelisei  understood  what  she  said  :  he  went  up  to  her. 
"  I  am  a  servant  of  God,"  says  he :  "I  come  to  get  a 
drink." 

"  Hain't  got  any,  hain't  got  any.  Hain't  got  any 
thing  to  get  it  in.     Go  away  !  " 

1  She  speaks  in  the  staccato Malo Russian  dialect:  Chovo  tobltrebaf  .  .  , 
iVJ/^  ma,  Cholovitche,  nitchovo!  tobi  for  tibyi;  ma  for  mui;  cholovitcht 
for  chelovyik  (man). 


152  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

Yelis^i*  began  to  question  her.  ''  Tell  me,^  isn't 
there  any  one  of  you  well  enough  to  take  care  of  the 
woman?  " 

''  Hain't  got  any  one  —  the  man  in  the  dvor  is  dying, 
and  we  are  here." 

The  boy  had  ceased  crying  when  he  saw  the  stranger ; 
but  when  the  old  woman  spoke,  he  began  to  tug  again 
at  her  sleeve:  "Bread,  granny,  bread!"  and  began 
screaming  again. 

Yelisei  was  going  to  ask  more  questions  of  the  old 
woman,  when  the  muzhik  came  stumbling  into  the  hut : 
he  went  along  the  wall,  and  was  going  to  sit  on  the 
bench,  but  failed  of  it,  and  fell  into  the  corner  at  the 
threshold.  And  he  did  not  try  to  get  up  :  he  tried  to 
speak.  One  word  he  speaks  —  then  breaks  off,  is  out 
of  breath,  speaks  another:  — 

"  Sick,"  —  says  he,  "  and  starving.  — Here  —  he  — 
is  —  dying  —  starvation." 

The  muzhik  indicated  the  boy  with  his  head,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

Yelisei  shook  off  his  sack  from  his  shoulders,  freed 
his  arms,  set  the  sack  on  the  floor,  then  lifted  it  to  the 
bench,  and  began  to  undo  it.  He  undid  it,  took  out 
bread,  a  knife,  cut  off  a  slice,  gave  it  to  the  muzhik. 
The  muzhik  would  not  take  it,  but  pointed  to  the  boy 
and  to  the  girl.     "Give  it  to  them,  please." 

Yelisei  held  it  out  to  the  boy.  The  malchik  smelt 
the  bread,  stretched  himself  up,  seized  the  slice  with 
both  hands,  and  buried  his  nose  in  the  slice.  A  little 
girl  crept  out  from  behind  the  oven,  and  stared  at  the 
bread.  Yelisei  gave  her  some  also.  He  cut  off  still 
another  chunk,  and  gave  it  to  the  old  woman.  The  old 
woman  took  it,  tried  to  chew  it. 

1  Chtosh. 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  153 

"  Would  you  bring  some  water?  "  she  said  :  "  their 
mouths  are  parched.  I  tried,"  says  she,  "yesterday, 
or  to-day,  —  I  don't  remember  which,  —  to  get  some.  I 
fell,  couldn't  get  there ;  and  the  bucket  is  there  yet, 
unless  some  one  has  stolen  it.'* 

Yelisei  asked  where  their  well  was.  The  old  woman 
gave  him  the  directions.  Yelisei  went  and  found  the 
bucket,  brought  water,  gave  the  people  some  to  drink. 

The  children  were  still  eating  bread  and  water,  and 
the  old  woman  ate  some  too  ;  but  the  muzhik  refused  to 
eat. 

"  It  makes  me  sick  at  my  stomach."  His  baba,  who 
did  not  notice  any  thing  at  all,  or  come  to  herself,  only 
tossed  about  on  the  loft. 

Yelisei  went  to  the  village,  bought  at  the  shop  some 
millet,  salt,  flour,  butter,  looked  round  for  a  hatchet. 
He  split  up  some  wood,  — began  to  kindle  up  the  oven. 
The  little  girl  began  to  help  him.  Yelisei  boiled  some 
porridge  and  kasha,  fed  the  people. 


154  TWO  OLD  MEN. 


V. 


The  muzhik  ate  a  little,  and  the  old  woman  ate  ;  but 
the  little  girl  and  the  little  boy  licked  the  bowl  clean, 
and  lay  down  to  sleep  locked  in  each  other's  arms. 

The  muzhik  and  the  old  woman  began  to  relate  how 
all  this  had  come  upon  them. 

'^  We  weren't  rich,  even  before  this,"  say  they  ;  *'  but 
when  nothing  grew,  we  had  to  give  all  we  had  for  food 
last  autumn.  We  parted  with  every  thing  :  then  we  had 
to  go  begging  among  our  neighbors  and  kind  people. 
At  first  they  gave  to  us,  but  then  they  sent  us  away. 
Some  would  have  gladly  given  to  us,  but  they  had 
nothing.  Yes,  and  we  were  ashamed  to  beg :  we  got 
in  debt  to  every  one,  both  for  money  and  flour  and 
bread.  I  tried  to  get  work,"  said  the  muzhik,  "  but 
there  was  no  work.  People  everywhere  were  wander- 
ing about  to  work  for  something  to  eat.  You'd  work 
one  day,  and  you'd  go  about  for  two  hunting  for  work. 
The  old  woman  and  the  little  girl  had  to  go  a  long 
way  off  begging.  Not  much  was  given  them  :  no  one 
had  any  bread  to  spare.  And  so  we  lived,  hoping  we'd 
get  along  somehow  till  new  crops  came.  But  then 
they  stopped  giving  at  all,  and  then  sickness  came  on. 
Things  were  just  as  bad  as  they  could  be.  One  day 
we  had  something  to  eat,  but  the  next  two  nothing. 
We  began  to  eat  grass.  Yes,  perhaps  it  was  from  eat- 
ing grass,  or  something  of  the  sort,  that  my  baba  got 
sick.     My  baba  became   sick,    and    I    haven't    any 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  155 

strength,*'  says  the  muzhik.  ''There  was  no  way  of 
curing  us." 

"  I  was  the  only  one,"  says  the  old  woman,  "  who 
kept  up ;  but  without  eating,  I  lost  my  strength,  and 
got  puny.  And  the  little  girl  got  puny,  and  lost  heart. 
We  sent  her  to  the  neighbors,  but  she  wouldn't  go. 
She  crept  into  the  corner,  and  wouldn't  come  out.  Day 
before  yesterday  a  neighbor  came  round,  yes,  and  she 
saw  that  we  were  starving,  and  were  sick ;  but  she 
turned  round  and  went  off.  Her  husband  had  left 
her,  and  she  hadn't  any  thing  to  feed  her  little  chil- 
dren with.  .  .  .  And  so  here  we  lay,  —  waiting  for 
death." 

Yelis^i  listened  to  their  talk,  changed  his  mind  about 
going  to  rejoin  his  companion  that  day,  and  spent  the 
night  there. 

In  the  morning  Yelis^'i  got  up,  did  the  chores  as 
though  he  were  master  of  the  house.  He  and  the  old 
woman  kneaded  the  bread,  and  he  kindled  the  fire. 
He  went  with  the  little  girl  to  the  neighbors',  to  get 
what  they  needed ;  for  there  was  nothing  to  be  found 
—  nothing  at  all ;  every  thing  had  been  disposed  of  ; 
there  was  nothing  for  domestic  purposes,  and  no  cloth- 
ing. And  Yelis6i  began  to  lay  in  a  supply  of  what 
was  needed.  Some  he  himself  made,  and  some  he 
bought.  Thus  Yelisei  spent  one  day,  spent  a  second, 
spent  also  a  third. 

The  little  boy  got  better,  began  to  climb  up  on  the 
bench,  to  caress  Yelisei.  But  the  little  girl  became 
perfectly  gay,  helps  in  all  things.  And  she  keeps 
running  after  Yelisei:  "  Grand-dad,  dear  little  grand- 
daddy  !  "  ^  And  the  old  woman  also  got  up,  and  went 
among  the  neighbors.     And  the  muzhik  began  to  walk, 

1  I>idu,  diditsyu,  Malo  Russian  for  dyedya,  dyeduahka. 


156  TWO   OLD  MEN. 

supporting  himself  bj  the  wall.  Only  the  haba  still 
lay  unconscious ;  but  even  she,  on  the  third  day,  came 
to  herself,  and  began  to  ask  for  something  to  eat. 
"  Well,'*^  thinks  Yelis^i,  "I  didn't  expect  to  spend  so 
much  time :  now  I'll  be  going.'* 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  157 


VI. 


On  the  fourth  day,  meat-eating  was  allowed  for  the 
first  time  after  the  fast;  and  Yelis(^i  thinks,  "Come, 
now,  I  will  feast  with  these  people.  I  will  buy  them 
something  for  the  Saints'  day,^  and  toward  evening  I 
will  go."  Yelisei  went  to  the  village  again,  bought  milk, 
white  flour,  lard.  He  and  the  old  woman  boiled  and 
baked  ;  and  in  the  morning  Yelisei  went  to  mass,  came 
home,  ate  meat  with  the  people.  On  this  day  the  baba 
also  got  up,  and  began  to  creep  about.  And  the  muz- 
hik had  shaved,  put  on  a  clean  shirt,  —  the  old  woman 
had  washed  it  out,  —  and  gone  to  the  village  to  ask 
mercy  of  a  rich  muzhik.  Both  meadow  and  corn-land 
had  been  mortgaged  to  the  rich  muzhik.  So  he  went 
to  ask  if  he  would  not  give  him  the  meadow  and  corn- 
land  till  the  new  crops. 

The  khozydin  returned  toward  evening,  gloomy  and 
in  tears.  The  rich  muzhik  would  not  have  pity  on 
him  :  "  He  says,  '  bring  your  money.*  " 

Again  Yelisei  falls  into  thought. 

"How  will  he  live  now?"  thinks  he.  "The  men 
will  be  going  out  to  mow :  he  has  nothing.  His  ha}"- 
field  is  mortgaged.  The  rye  is  ripening ;  the  men  are 
beginning  to  harvest  it  (our  good  mdtushka  has  come 
up  well  this  year),  but  these  won't  have  anything: 
their  field  ^  has  been  mortgaged  to  the  rich  muzhik.  If 
I  go  away,  they'll  all  go  wrong  again." 

»  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul;  July  11  (June  29,  O.S.).  »  Desydtina. 


158  TWO   OLD  MEN. 

And  Yelis^i  was  all  broken  up  by  these  thoughts, 
and  did  not  take  his  departure  that  evening :  he  waited 
till  morning.  He  went  out  into  the  dvor  to  sleep.  He 
said  his  prayers,  lay  down,  and  can't  sleep.  "I  must 
go  —  here  I  have  been  spending  so  much  money  and 
time — and  I'm  sorry  for  these  people.  You  can't 
give  to  everybody,  evidently.  I  meant  to  get  them 
some  water,  and  give  them  a  slice  of  bread  ;  but  just 
see  how  it  has  taken  me  !  Now  —  I  must  redeem  their 
meadow  and  their  field.  And  when  I've  redeemed 
their  field,  I  must  buy  a  cow  for  the  children,  and  a 
horse  to  carry  the  muzhik's  sheaves.  There  you  are 
in  a  pretty  pickle,  brother  Yelisei  Kuzmitch  !  You're 
anchored  here,  and  you  don't  get  off  so  easy  !  " 

Yelis(^i  got  up,  took  his  kaftan  from  under  his  head,, 
unfolded  it,  found  his  snuflT-horn,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
tried  to  clear  up  his  thoughts  ;  but  no,  he  thought  and  he 
thought,  but  could  not  think  it  out.  He  must  go  ;  but 
he  pitied  these  people.  And  what  to  do,  he  knew  not. 
He  folded  up  his  kaftan  for  a  pillow,  and  lay  down 
again.  He  lay  and  he  lay,  and  the  cocks  were  already 
singing  when  he  finally  fell  into  a  doze.  Suddenly, 
something  seemed  to  wake  him  up.  He  sees  himself, 
as  it  were,  all  dressed,  with  his  sack  and  his  staff ;  and 
he  has  to  go  into  a  gate,  but  the  gate  is  so  nearl}"  shut 
that  only  one  person  can  get  through  at  a  time.  And 
he  goes  to  the  gate,  and  got  caught  on  one  side  by  his 
sack  :  he  tried  to  detach  it,  and  got  caught  on  the  other 
side  by  his  leg-wrapper ;  and  the  leg-wrapper  untied. 
He  tried  to  detach  it,  but  he  was  not  caught  by  the 
wattle  after  all ;  but  that  little  girl  holds  him,  crying, 
"Grand-dad,  dear  little  grand-dadd}-,  bread!  "  ^  He 
looked  down  at  his  leg,  and  to   his   leg-wrapper  the 

1  Didu,  didusyu,  khliba. 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  159 

little  boy  is  clinging :  the  old  woman  and  the  muzhik 
are  gazing  from  the  window. 

Yelisei  woke  up,  and  said  to  himself  aloud,  "'To- 
morrow," sa3's  he,  "I  will  redeem  the  field  and  the 
meadow  ;  and  I  will  buy  a  horse,  and  flour  enough 
to  last  till  the  new  comes ;  and  I  will  buy  a  cow  for  the 
children.  For  you  will  go  across  the  sea  to  find  Christ, 
and  lose  him  in  3'our  own  soul.  I  must  set  these  peo- 
ple right." 

And  Yelisei  slept  till  morning. 

Yelisei  woke  up  early.  He  went  to  the  rich  muz- 
hik :  he  redeemed  the  rye-field ;  he  paid  cash  for  it, 
and  for  the  meadow-land.  He  bought  a  scythe,  —  the 
very  one  that  had  been  disposed  of,  —  brought  it  back. 
He  sent  the  muzhik  to  mow,  and  he  himself  went  to 
the  muzhiks  ;  at  last  found  a  horse  and  tel3'^ga  which 
an  inn-keeper  was  ready  to  sell.  He  struck  a  bargain, 
bought  them.  He  bought,  also,  some  flour,  put  the 
sack  in  the  tely^ga,  and  went  farther  to  buy  a  cow. 
Yelisei  is  going  along :  he  overtakes  two  Top-Knots. 
They  are  babas ;  and,  as  they  walk,  they  gossip.  And 
Yelisei  hears  the  babas  talking  in  their  own  speech,  and 
he  makes  out  that  they  are  talking  about  him. 

"  Heavens  !  at  first  they  didn't  know  what  to  make 
of  him  :  their  idea  was,  he  was  a  mere  man.  As  he 
came  by,  it  seems,  he  stopped  to  get  a  drink,  and  then 
he  staid.  Whatever  they  needed,  he  bought.  I  my- 
self saw  him  this  very  day  buy  of  the  tavern-keeper  a 
nag  and  cart.^  Didn't  know  there  were  such  folks  in 
the  world.     Must  go  and  see  him  !  '* 

Yelisei  heard  this  ;  understood  that  they  were  praising 
him,  and  did  not  go  to  buy  the  cow.  He  returned  to 
the  tavern,  and  paid  the  money  for  the  horse.     He 

1  Vos.    Malo  Russiau  for  tely4ga. 


160  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

harnessed  up,  and  drove  with  the  wheat  back  to  the 
hut.  He  drove  up  to  the  gate,  reined  in,  and  dis- 
mounted from  the  tely^ga.  The  household  saw  the 
horse  :  they  wondered.  And  it  comes  to  them  that  he 
had  bought  the  horse  for  them,  but  they  dare  not  say 
so.     The  khozydin  came  out  to  open  the  gate. 

''Where,"  says  he,  ''did  you  get  the  nag,  grand- 
pa?"i 

''  I  bought  it,"  says  lie.  "  I  got  it  cheap.  Mow  a 
little  grass,  please,  for  the  stall,  for  her  to  lie  on  over 
night.     Yes,  and  lug  in  the  bag." 

The  khozydin  unharnessed  the  horse,  lugged  the  bag 
into  the  house,  mowed  a  lot  of  grass,  spread  it  in  the 
stall.  They  went  to  bed.  Yelisei  lay  down  out-doors, 
and  there  he  had  lugged  his  sack  the  evening  before. 
All  the  folks  were  asleep.  Yelisei  got  up,  shouldered 
his  sack,  fastened  his  boots,  put  on  his  kaftan,  and 
started  on  his  way  after  Yefim. 

1  Dyidmhka. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  '  161 


VII. 


Yeltsei  had  gone  five  versts  :  it  began  to  grow  light. 
He  sat  down  under  a  tree,  opened  his  sack,  began  to 
reckon.  He  counted  his  money  :  there  were  left  only 
seventeen  rubles,  twenty  kopeks. 

"  Well,"  thinks  he,  ''  witli  this  you  won't  get  across 
the  sea.  And  to  beg  in  Christ's  name  —  that  might 
be  a  great  sin.  Friend  Yefim  will  go  alone  :  he'll  set 
a  candle  for  me.  But  the  tax  will  remain  on  me  till 
death.  Thank  the  Lord,  the  Master^  is  kind:  he  will 
have  patience." 

Yelisei  got  up,  lifted  his  sack  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  went  back.  Only,  he  went  out  of  his  way  round 
the  village,  so  that  the  people  of  it  might  not  see  him. 
And  Yelisei  reached  home  quickly.  When  he  started, 
it  seemed  hard  to  him,  beyond  his  strength,  to  keep 
up  with  Yefim  ;  but  going  back,  God  gave  him  such 
strength  that  he  walks  along  and  does  not  know  fatigue. 
He  walks  along  gayly,  swings  his  staff,  goes  his  seventy 
versts  a  day. 

Yelisei  reached  home.  Already  the  fields  had  been 
harvested.  The  folks  were  delighted  to  see  their  old 
man :  they  began  to  ask  him  questions,  —  how,  and 
what,  and  why  he  had  left  his  companion,  why  he  did 
not  go  on,  but  came  home.  Yelisei  did  not  care  to  tell 
them  about  it. 

''God  did  not  permit  me,"  says  he.     "I  lost  my 

»  Ehozkyain. 


162  TWO  OLD   MEN. 

money  on  the  road,  and  got  behind  my  companion. 
And  so  I  did  not  go.     Forgive  me,  for  Christ's  sake.*' 

And  he  handed  the  old  woman  his  remaining  money. 
Yelisei  inquired  about  the  domestic  afifairs :  it  was  all 
right ;  every  thing  had  been  done  properly ;  there  was 
nothing  left  undone  in  the  farm-work,  and  all  are 
living  in  peace  and  harmony. 

On  this  very  same  day,  Yefim*s  people  heard  that 
Yelisei  had  returned :  they  came  round  to  ask  after 
their  old  man.     And  Yelisei  told  them  the  same  thing. 

"•  Your  old  man,"  says  he,  "  went  on  sturdily;  we 
parted,"  sa3's  he,  'Hhree  days  before  Peter's  Da}^ ;  I 
intended  to  catch  up  with  him,  but  then  so  many  things 
happened;  I  lost  my  money,  and,  as  I  couldn't  go  on 
with  what  I  had,  I  came  back." 

The  people  wondered  how  such  a  sensible  man  could 
have  done  so  foolishly  —  start  out,  and  not  go  on,  and 
only  waste  his  money.  They  wondered  and  forgot. 
And  Yelisei  forgot.  He  began  to  do  the  chores  again  ; 
he  helped  his  son  chop  wood  against  the  winter ;  he 
threshed  the  corn  with  the  babas ;  he  re-thatched  the 
shed,  arranged  about  the  bees,  and  gave  his  neighbor 
the  ten  hives  with  their  increase.  His  old  woman 
wanted  to  hide  how  many  swarms  had  come  from  the 
hives  that  he  had  sold  :  but  Yelisei  himself  knew  what 
hives  had  swarmed,  and  what  had  not ;  and  he  gave 
his  neighbor,  instead  of  ten,  seventeen  swarms.  Yel- 
isei arranged  every  thing,  sent  his  son  off  to  work, 
and  he  himself  settled  down  for  the  winter  to  make 
bast-shoes  ^  and  chisel  out  bee-hives. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  163 


VIII. 

All  that  day  that  Yelis(^i  staid  in  the  sick  folks' 
hut,  Yefiin  waited  for  his  companion.  He  went  a  little 
way,  and  sat  down.  He  waited,  waited  ;  went  to  sleep, 
woke  up  ;  still  sat  there  ;  no  companion  !  He  gazed 
with  all  his  eyes.  Already  the  sun  had  gone  behind 
the  trees  —  no  Yelisei. 

'^  He  can't  have  gone  past  me,  or  ridden  by  (perhaps 
some  one  gave  him  a  lift) ,  and  not  seen  me  while  I 
was  asleep,  can  he?  He  could  not  have  helped  seeing 
me.  You  see  a  long  way  on  the  steppes.  If  I  should 
go  back,"  he  thinks,  '^  he  would  be  getting  ahead. 
We  might  miss  each  other :  that  would  be  still  worse. 
1  will  go  on  :  we  shall  meet  at  our  lodging.'* 

He  went  on  to  a  village,  asked  the  village  police- 
men ^  to  send  such  and  such  an  old  man,  if  he  came 
along,  to  yonder  hut. 

Yelis^i  did  not  come  to  the  lodging. 

Yefim  went  farther ;  asked  everybody  if  they  had 
seen  a  bald,  little  old  man.  No  one  had.  Yefim  won- 
dered, and  went  on  alone. 

*'  We  shall  meet,"  he  thinks,  "  in  Odessa  somewhere, 
or  on  board  ship."     And  he  ceased  to  think  about  it. 

On  the  way  he  met  a  strdnnik.^  The  strAnnik  wore 
a  skull-cap  and  cassock,  and  had  long  hair ;  had  been 
to  the  Athos  Monastery,  and  was  going  to  Jerusalem 
for  the  second  time.  They  met  at  the  lodgings,  got 
into  conversation,  and  went  on  together. 

*  I>e$ydt8ki.  '  A  professional  pilgrim,  of  the  genus  tramp. 


164  TWO  OLD  men: 

They  reached  Odessa  safely.  They  waited  thrice 
twenty-four  hours  for  a  ship.  Many  pilgrims  were 
waiting  there.  They  were  from  different  lands.  Again 
Yeflm  made  inquiries  about  Yelisei :  no  one  had  seen 
him. 

Yefim  asked  for  a  passport :  it  cost  five  rubles.  He 
paid  forty  silver  rubles  ^  for  a  return-ticket ;  bought 
bread  and  herring  for  the  voyage.  The  vessel  was 
loaded,  the  pilgrims  embarked  :  Tardsuitch  also  took  his 
place  with  the  strannik.  They  hoisted  anchor,  set  sail, 
flew  across  the  sea.  They  sailed  well  all  day  ;  at  evening 
a  wind  sprang  up,  rain  fell ;  it  began  to  get  rough,  and 
the  waves  dashed  over  the  ship.  The  people  were 
thrown  about,  the  babas  began  to  scream,  and  the 
weaker  among  the  men  began  to  run  about  the  vessel, 
trying  to  find  a  place. 

Fear  fell  upon  Yefim  also,  but  he  did  not  show  it. 
Exactly  where  he  had  sat  down  on  coming  on  board, 
near  some  old  men  from  Tambof,  here  also  he  kept 
sitting  all  night  and  all  the  next  day  :  they  only  clung 
to  their  sacks,  and  said  nothing.  It  cleared  off  on 
tlie  third  day.  On  the  fifth  day  they  reached  Tsar- 
gracl.^  Some  of  the  strdnniks  were  put  ashore  :  they 
wanted  to  look  at  the  temple  of  Sophia- Wisdom,  where 
now  the  Turks  hold  sway.  Tardsuitch  did  not  land : 
he  still  sat  on  board.  Only  he  bought  some  white 
loaves.  They  staid  twenty-four  hours :  again  they 
flew  over  the  sea.  They  made  another  stop  at  the 
bity  of  Smyrna  ;  at  another  city,  Alexandria  ;  and  they 
happily  reached  the  city  of  Jaffa.  At  Jaffa  all  the 
pilgrims  disembarked.  It  was  seventy  versts  on  foot 
to  Jerusalem.  Also  at  landing,  the  people  were  panic- 
struck  :  the  ship  was  high,  and  the  people  had  to  jump 

1  Tsyelkdviks,  2  Constantinople,  the  Tsar-city, 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  165 

down  into  boats ;  and  the  boat  rocked,  and  one  might 
not  strike  it,  but  fall  in  alongside ;  and  two  men  were 
drenched,  but  all  landed  happily. 

They  landed  :  they  started  off  on  foot.  On  the  third 
day  after  lauding,  they  reached  Jerusalem.  The}'  estab- 
lished themselves  in  the  city  at  the  Russian  hostelry  ;  ^ 
their  passports  are  visa-ed  ;  they  ate  dinner ;  they  went 
with  the  strdnnik  to  the  Holy  Places.  But  to  the 
Lord's  sepulchre  itself,  there  was  no  longer  any  ad- 
mittance. 

They  went  to  the  Patriarchal  Monastery  ;  there  all  the 
worshippers  collected ;  the  feminine  sex  sat  down,  the 
masculine  sex  also  sat  down  in  another  place.  They 
were  bidden  to  take  off  their  shoes,  and  to  sit  in  a 
circle.  A  monk  came  in  with  a  towel,  and  began  to 
wash  all  their  feet:  he  washes  them,  wipes  them,  and 
kisses  them ;  and  thus  he  does  to  all.  He  washed 
Yefim's  feet,  and  kissed  them.  They  attended  vespers, 
matins :  they  said  their  prayers,  they  placed  candles, 
and  presented  petitions  for  their  parents.  And  here 
also  they  took  an  occasional  bite,  and  brought  wine. 

In  the  morning  they  went  to  the  cell  of  Mary  of  Egypt, 
where  she  made  her  refuge.  They  set  up  candles,  sang 
a  Te  Deum.  Thence  they  went  to  the  Monastery  of 
Abraha.m.  They  saw  the  garden  on  Mount  Moriah  — 
the  place  where  Abraham  was  going  to  sacrifice  his  son 

*  The  five  or  six  thousand  Russian  pilgrims  who  every  year  visit  Jerusa- 
lem, says  a  recent  traveller,  "  are  all  accommodated  in  the  extensive  premises 
belonging  to  the  Russian  Government,  in  the  centre  of  which  the  Russian 
Consulate  is  situated,  and  which  forms  a  sort  of  Russian  suburb  to  the  Holy 
City."  Mr.  Oliphant  quotes  a  correspondent  of  the  Daily  News  to  the  effect 
that  the  "Orthodox  Palestine  Society,  one  of  whose  tasiis  it  is  to  facilitate 
Russian  pilgrimage  to  the  IToly  Land,"  has  a  membership  of  more  than  six 
hundred  members,  a  reserve  capital  of  sixty  thousand  rubles,  and  a  Grand 
Duke  — the  uncle  of  the  Tsar  — as  its  president.  It  is  a  curious  question 
how  long  religious  fanatics  will  be  able  to  impose  the  "  pious  frauds  "  of  the 
religious  places  upou  credulous  pilgrims,  such  as  Yefim  Tarasuitch. 


166  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

to  God.  Then  they  went  to  the  place  where  Christ 
revealed  himself  to  Mary  Magdalene,  and  to  the  Church 
of  James  the  Brother  of  the  Lord. 

The  strdnnik  pointed  out  all  these  places,  and  always 
told  where  it  was  necessary  to  contribute  money.  They 
returned  for  dinner  to  the  hostelry  ;  and  after  dinner, 
just  as  they  were  getting  ready  to  go  to  bed,  the  strdn- 
nik  began  to  say  Akh^  to  shake  his  clothes,  to  search. 
'*!  have  been  robbed,"  he  saj's,  "  of  my  portmonet, 
with  my  money.  Twenty -three  rubles,"  says  he,  "  there 
was  in  it  —  two  ten-ruble  notes,  and  three  in  change." 
The  strannik  mourned,  mourned  ;  nothing  to  be  done  : 
they  lay  down  to  sleep. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  167 


IX. 


YEpfM  lay  down  to  sleep,  and  temptation  fell  upon 
him.  "The  str^nnik's  money  was  not  stolen,"  he 
thinks  :  "  he  didn't  have  any.  He  never  gave  any.  He 
told  me  where  to  give,  but  he  himself  did  not  give  :  yes, 
and  he  borrowed  a  ruble  of  me.'* 

Thus  Yefim  thinks,  and  then  he  begins  to  scold 
himself.  "  Why,"  says  he,  "do  I  judge  the  man?  1 
do  wrong.     I  won't  think  about  it." 

As  he  becomes  sleepy,  again  he  begins  to  think  how 
sharp  the  strdnnik  was  about  money,  and  how  he  tells 
an  unlikely  story  about  his  portmonet  being  stolen. 
"He  hadn't  any  money,"  he  thinks.    "  It  was  a  trick." 

Next  morning  they  got  up,  and  went  to  early  mass 
in  the  great  Church  of  the  Resurrection ;  to  the  tomb 
of  the  Lord.  The  strdnnik  does  not  leave  Yefim  :  he 
goes  with  him  everywhere. 

They  went  to  the  church.  A  great  crowd  of  people 
were  collected  together,  of  pilgrim-strdnniks,  Russians, 
and  all  peoples  —  of  Greeks  and  Armenians,  and  Turks 
and  Syrians.  Yefim  entered  the  sacred  gates  with  the 
people.  A  monk  led  them.  He  led  them  past  Turkish 
guards  to  the  place  where  the  Saviour  was  taken  from 
the  cross,  and  anointed,  and  where  the  nine  great 
candlesticks  are  burning.  He  points  out  every  thing, 
and  tells  them  every  thing.  Here  Yefim  placed  a 
candle.  Then  some  monks  led  Yefim  to  the  right  hand 
up  the  little  flight  of  steps  to  Golgotha,  where  the  cross 


168  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

stood.  Here  Yefim  said  a  prayer.  Then  they  pointed 
out  to  Yefim  the  hole  where  the  earth  had  opened  down 
to  hell ;  then  they  pointed  out  the  place  where  they  had 
fastened  Christ's  hands  and  feet  to  the  cross ;  then 
they  showed  the  tomb  of  Adam,  over  whose  bones 
Christ's  blood  had  flowed ;  then  they  came  to  the 
stone  whereon  Christ  had  sat  when  they  put  on  him 
the  crown  of  thorns ;  then  to  the  pillar  to  which  they 
bound  Christ  when  they  scourged  him ;  then  Yefim 
saw  the  stone  with  two  hollows  for  Christ's  feet.  They 
were  going  to  show  them  something  more,  but  the 
crowd  were  in  a  hurry :  they  all  rushed  to  the  very 
grotto  of  the  Lord's  sepulchre.  There  the  foreign 
mass  had  just  ended,  the  orthodox  mass  was  just  be- 
ginning. Yefim  went  into  the  grotto  with  the  throng. 
He  was  anxious  to  get  rid  of  the  str^nnik,  for  contin- 
uall}^  in  his  thoughts  he  was  sinning  against  the  stran- 
nik  :  but  the  strdnnik  would  not  be  got  rid  of ;  in  com- 
pany with  him  he  goes  to  mass  at  the  Lord's  sepulchre. 
They  tried  to  get  nearer :  they  did  not  get  there  in  time. 
The  people  are  wedged  so  close  that  there  is  no  going 
forward  or  back.  Yefim  stands,  gazes  forward,  says 
his  prayers  ;  but  it  is  no  use  ;  ^  he  keeps  feeling  whether 
his  purse  is  still  there.  He  is  divided  in  his  thoughts ; 
one  way  he  thinks  the  strdnnik  is  deceiving  him ;  the 
other,  he  thinks,  "  Or,  if  he  is  not  deceiving  me,  and 
he  was  really  robbed,  why,  then,  it  might  be  the  same 
with  me  also.*' 

1  2f'y4tt  n*yct.   Literally,  no,  no. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  169 


Thus  Yefira  stands,  says  his  praj'ers,  and  looks 
forward  toward  the  chapel  where  the  sepulchre 
itself  is ;  and  on  the  sepulchre  the  thirty-six  lamps 
are  burning.  Yeflm  stands,  looks  over  the  heads, 
when,  what  a  marvel!  Under  the  lamps  themselves, 
where  the  blessed  fire  burns  before  all,  he  sees  a  little 
old  man  standing,  in  a  coarse  kaftan,  with  a  bald  spot 
over  his  whole  head,  just  as  in  the  case  of  Yelis^i 
Bodrof. 

"  It's  like  Yelis6i,"  he  thinks.  "  But  it  can't  be  him. 
He  can't  have  got  here  before  me.  No  vessel  had 
sailed  for  a  week  before  us.  He  couldn't  have  got 
in  ahead.  And  he  wasn't  on  our  vessel.  I  saw  all 
the  pilgrims." 

While  Yefim  was  thus  reasoning,  the  little  old  man 
began  to  pray  ;  and  he  bowed  three  times — once  straight 
ahead,  toward  God,  and  then  toward  the  orthodox 
throng  on  all  sides.  And  as  the  little  old  man  bent 
down  his  head  to  the  right,  then  Yefim  recognized  him. 
It  is  Bodrof  himself,  with  his  blackish,  curly  beard, 
growing  gray  on  the  cheeks  ;  and  his  eyebrows,  and 
eyes,  and  nose,  and  all  his  peculiarities.  It  is  Yelis^i 
Bodrof  himself. 

Yefira  was  filled  with  joy  because  his  companion  had 
come,  and  wondered  how  Yelis^i  had  got  there  ahead 
of  him.     "Well,  well,^  Bodrof,"  he  says  to  himself, 

1  M  dal 


170  TWO  OLD   MEN. 

"  how  (lid  he  get  up  there  in  front?  He  must  have 
fallen  in  with  somebody  who  put  him  there.  Let  me 
just  meet  him  as  we  go  out :  I'll  get  rid  of  this  strdn- 
nik  in  his  skull-cap,  and  go  with  him ;  and  perhaps  he 
will  get  me  a  front  place  too." 

And  all  the  time  Yefim  keeps  his  eyes  on  Yelisei,  so 
as  not  to  miss  him. 

Now  the  mass  was  over ;  the  crowd  reeled,  they  tried 
to  make  their  way,  they  struggled ;  Yeflm  was  pushed 
to  one  side.  Again  the  fear  came  upon  him  that  some 
one  would  steal  his  purse. 

Yefim  clutched  his  purse,  and  tried  to  break  through 
the  crowd,  so  as  to  get  into  an  open  space.  He  made 
his  way  into  the  open  space ;  he  went  and  went,  he 
sought  and  sought  for  Yelisei,  and  in  the  church  also. 
And  there,  also,  in  the  church  he  saw  many  people  in 
cloisters ;  and  some  were  eating,  and  drinking  wine, 
and  sleeping,  and  reading.  And  there  was  no  Yelisei 
anywhere.  Yefim  returned  to  the  hostelry,  did  not 
find  his  companion.  And  this  evening  the  strdnnik 
-also  did  not  come  back.  He  disappeared,  and  did  not 
return  the  ruble.     Y^efim  was  left  alone. 

On  the  next  day  Yefim  again  went  to  the  Lord's  sep- 
ulchre with  an  old  man  from  Tambof ,  who  had  come  on 
the  same  ship  with  him.  He  wanted  to  get  to  the  front, 
but  again  he  was  crowded  back  ;  and  he  stood  by  a  pillar, 
and  prayed.  He  looked  to  the  front;  again  under  the 
lamps,  at  the  very  sepulchre  of  the  Lord,  in  the  fore- 
most place,  stands  Yelisei,  spreads  his  arms  like  the 
priest  at  the  altar  ;  and  the  light  shines  all  over  his  bald 
head. 

''  Well,"  ^  thinks  Yefim,  "  now  I'll  surely  not  miss 
him." 

^2ru 


TWO   OLD  MEN.  171 

He  tries  to  push  through  to  the  front.  He  pushes 
through.     No  Yelisei.    Apparently  gone  out. 

And  on  the  third  day,  again  he  gazes  towards  the 
Lord's  sepulchre :  in  the  same  sacred  spot  stands  Yel- 
isei, with  the  same  aspect,  his  arms  outspread,  and 
looking  up,  almost  as  though  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him.     And  the  bald  spot  on  his  whole  head  shines. 

''Well,"  thinks  Yefim,  "  now  I'll  not  miss  him  :  I'll 
go  and  stand  at  the  door.  There  we  sha'n't  miss  each 
other." 

Yefim  went  and  stood  and  stood.  He  stood  there 
half  the  day  :  all  the  people  went  out  —  no  Yelisei. 

Yefim  spent  six  weeks  in  Jerusalem,  and  visited 
every  thing;  and  in  Bethlehem,  and  Bethany,  and  on 
the  Jordan  :  and  he  had  a  seal  stamped  on  a  new  shirt 
at  the  Lord's  sepulchre,  so  that  he  might  be  buried  in 
it ;  and  he  got  some  Jordan  water  in  a  vial,  and  some 
earth  ;  and  he  got  some  candles  with  the  holy  fire,  and 
he  noted  down  his  recollections  in  all  places  ;  and  hav- 
ing spent  all  his  money,  except  enough  to  get  him  home, 
Yefim  started  on  the  home-journey.  He  went  to  Jaffa, 
took  passage  in  a  ship,  sailed  to  Odessa,  and  started  to 
walk  home. 


172  TWO  OLD  MEN. 


XI. 


YEpfM  walks  alone  over  the  same  road  as  before.  As 
he  began  to  near  his  home,  again  the  worriment  came 
upon  him  as  to  how  the  folks  were  getting  along  with- 
out him.  ''  In  a  year,"  thinks  he,  "  much  water  leaks 
away.  You  spend  a  whole  lifetime  making  9  house, 
and  it  don't  take  long  to  go  to  waste."  How  had  his 
son  conducted  affairs?  how  had  the  spring  opened  up? 
how  had  the  cattle  weathered  the  winter  ?  how  had  they 
done  the  izbd  ? ' ' 

Yefim  reached  that  place  where,  the  year  before,  he 
had  parted  from  Yelis^i.  It  was  impossible  to  recog- 
nize the  people.  Where,  the  preceding  year,  the  people 
were  wretchedly  poor,  now  all  lived  in  sufficient  com- 
fort. There  had  been  good  crops.  The  people  had 
recovered,  and  forgotten  their  former  trouble. 

Yefim  at  evening  reached  the  very  village  where,  the 
3'ear  before,  Yelis^i  had  stopped.  He  had  hardly  en- 
tered the  village,  when  a  little  girl  in  a  white  shirt 
sprang  out  from  behind  a  hut :  — 

*' Grandpa!  Dear  grandpa!^  Come  into  our 
house ! ' ' 

Yefim  was  inclined  to  go  on,  but  the  little  girl  would 
not  allow  him  :  she  seizes  him  by  the  skirts,  pulls  him 
along  into  the  hut,  and  laughs. 

There  came  out  upon  the  doorsteps  a  woman  with  a 
little  boy  ;  she  also  beckons  to  him  :  "  Come  in,  please, 

1  Did!  didko.  Malo  Russian  for  D'yid,  d^yidunhka. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  173 

grand-sire,  d*yedushko,  —  and  take  supper  with  us,  — 
you  shall  spend  the  night." 

Yeflm  went  in. 

''That's  just  right,"  he  thinks:  "  I  will  ask  about 
Yelis^i.  No  doubt,  this  is  the  very  hut  where  he  stopped 
to  get  a  drink." 

Yefira  went  in  :  the  woman  took  his  sack  from  him, 
gave  him  a  chance  to  wash,  and  set  him  at  the  table. 
She  put  on  milk,  vareniki,^  kasha-gruel,  —  she  set 
them  all  on  the  table.  Tardsuitch  thanked  and  praised 
the  people  for  being  so  hospitable  to  strduniks.  The 
woman  shook  her  head  :  — 

''  We  cannot  help  being  hospitable  to  strdnniks. 
We  owe  our  lives  to  a  strdunik.  We  lived,  we  had  for- 
gotten God,  and  God  had  forgotten  us,  so  that  all  that 
we  expected  was  death.  Last  summer  it  went  so  bad 
with  us,  that  we  were  all  sick,  —  and  had  nothing  to 
cat,  and  —  we  were  sick.  And  we  should  have  died  ; 
but  God  sent  us  such  a  nice  old  man,  just  like  you !  He 
came  in  just  at  noon  to  get  a  drink ;  and  when  he  saw 
us,  he  was  sorry  for  us,  yes,  and  he  staid  on  with  us. 
And  he  gave  us  something  to  drink,  and  fed  us,  and  put 
us  on  our  legs ;  and  he  bought  back  our  land,  and  he 
bought  us  a  horse  and  tely^ga,  left  them  with  us." 

The  old  woman  came  into  the  hut ;  she  interrupted 
the  woman's  story:  "And  we  don't  know  at  all," 
says  she,  "  whether  it  was  a  man,  or  an  angel  of  God. 
He  loved  us  all  so,  and  he  was  so  sorry  for  us  ;  and  he 
went  away,  and  did  not  tell  us  [who  he  was],  and  we 
don't  know  who  we  should  pray  God  for.  I  can  see  it 
now  just  as  it  was  :  there  I  was  Ijing,  expecting  to  die  ; 
1  see  a  little  old  man  come  in  —  not  a  bit  stuck  up  — 

1  A  sort  of  triangular  doughuute,  or  boiled  patties,  stuffed  with  clieese 
or  curds. 


174  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

rather  bald  —  he  asks  for  water.  Sinner  that  I  was,  I 
thought, '  What  are  they  prowling  round  here  for  ? '  And 
think  what  he  did !  As  soon  as  he  saw  us,  he  right  off 
with  his  sack,  and  set  it  right  on  that  spot,  and  untied 
it." 

And  the  little  girl  broke  in,  — 

"No,"  says  she,  '^bdbushka:  first  he  set  his  sack 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  hut,  and  then  he  put  it  on 
the  bench." 

And  they  began  to  discuss  it,  and  to  recall  all  his 
words  and  actions ;  both  where  he  sat,  and  where  he 
slept,  and  what  he  did,  and  what  he  said  to  any  of 
them. 

At  nightfall  came  the  muzhik-khozydin  on  horse- 
back :  he,  also,  began  to  tell  about  Yelisei,  and  how  he 
had  lived  with  them  :  — 

"If  he  had  not  come  to  us,"  says  he,  "we  should  all 
have  died  in  our  sins.  We  were  perishing  in  despair : 
we  murmured  against  God  and  against  men.  But  he. 
set  us  on  our  feet ;  and  through  him  we  learned  to  know. 
God,  and  we  have  come  to  believe  that  there  are  good 
people.  Christ  bless  him  !  Before,  we  lived  like  cat- 
tle :  he  made  us  men." 

The  people  fed  Yeflm,  gave  him  enough  to  drink : 
they  fixed  him  for  the  night,  and  they  themselves  lay 
down  to  sleep. 

Yefim  is  unable  to  sleep ;  and  the  thought  does  not 
leave  his  mind,  how  he  had  seen  Yelisei  in  Jerusalem 
three  times  in  the  foremost  place.  "  That's  how  he 
got  there  before  me,"  he  thinks.  "  My  labors  may,  or 
may  not,  be  accepted,  but  the  Lord  has  accepted  his." 

In  the  morning  the  people  wished  Yefim  good-speed  ; 
they  loaded  him  with  pirozhki  for  his  journey,  and  they 
went  to  their  work  :  and  Yefim  started  on  his  way. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  175 


XII. 


Yefim  had  been  gone  exactly  a  year.  In  the  spring 
he  returned  home. 

He  reached  home  in  the  evening.  His  son  wns  not 
at  home  :  he  was  at  the  tavern.^  His  son  came  home 
tips3\  Yefim  began  to  question  him.  In  ail  respects  he 
saw  that  the  young  man  had  got  into  bad  waj's  during 
his  absence.  He  had  spent  all  the  money  badly,  he 
had  neglected  things.  The  father  began  to  reprimand 
him.     The  son  began  to  be  impudent. 

''You  yourself  might  have  stirred  about  a  little,'* 
says  he,  "  but  you  went  wandering.  Yes,  and  you 
took  all  the  money  with  you  besides,  and  then  you  call 
me  to  account !  ' ' 

The  father  grew  angry,  beat  his  son. 

In  the  morning  Yefim  Tardsuitch  started  for  the 
stdrosta's  to  talk  with  him  about  his  son  :  he  goes 
by  Yelis^i's  dvor.  Yelisei's  old  woman  is  standing  on 
the  doorsteps  :    she  greets  him. 

"How's  your  health,  neighbor?"  says  she:  "did 
you  have  a  good  pilgrimage?  " 

Yefim  Tar^suitch  stopped. 

"  Glory  to  God,"  says  he,  "I  have  been!  I  lost 
your  old  man,  but  I  hear  he  got  home !  " 

And  the  old  woman  began  to  talk.  She  was  very 
fond  of  prattling. 

"He  got  back,"  says  she,  "good  neighbor:  he  got 

*  Kabak. 


176  TWO  OLD  MEN. 

back  long  ago.  Very  soon  after  the  Assumption.  And 
glad  enough  we  were  that  God  brought  him.  It  was 
lonesome  for  us  without  him.  He  isn't  good  for  much 
work  —  his  day  is  done;  but  he  is  the  head,  and  we 
are  happier.  And  how  glad  our  lad  was  !  '  Without 
father,*  says  he,  '  it's  like  being  without  light  in  the 
eye.'  It  was  lonesome  for  us  without  him,  we  iove 
him  and  we  missed  him  so !  '* 

''  Well,^  is  he  at  home  now?  '* 

"  Yes,  friend,  he's  with  the  bees :  he's  hiving  the  new 
swarms.  '•  Splendid  swarms,'  says  he  :  such  a  power  of 
bees  God  never  gave,  as  far  as  my  old  man  remembers. 
God  doesn't  grant  according  to  our  sins,  he  says.  Come 
in,  neighbor : 2  how  glad  he'll  be  to  see  you  !  " 

Yefim  passed  through  the  vestibule,  through  the  dvor 
to  the  apiary  where  Yelisei"  was.  He  went  into  the 
apiary,  he  looks  —  Yelisei  is  standing  under  a  little 
birch-tree,  without  a  net,  without  gloves,  in  his  gray 
kaftan,  spreading  out  his  arms,  and  looking  up;  and 
the  bald  spot  over  his  whole  head  gleams,  just  as  when 
he  stood  in  Jerusalem  at  the  Lord's  sepulchre  ;  and  over 
him,  just  as  in  Jerusalem  the  candles  burned,  the  sun- 
light plays  through  the  birch-tree ;  and  around  his  head 
the  golden  bees  circle  in  a  crown,  fly  in  and  out,  and  do 
not  sting  him. 

Yefim  stood  still. 

Yelis^i's  old  woman  called  to  her  husband  :  — 

"  Our  neighbor's  come,"  says  she. 

Yelisei  looked  around,  was  delighted,  came  to  meet 
his  companion,^  calmly  detaching  the  bees  from  his 
beard. 

"How  are  you,  comrade, ^  how  are  you,  my  dear 
friend !  —  did  you  have  a  good  journey?  " 

1  Chto-gh.  »  Eum. 


TWO  OLD  MEN.  Ill 

*'  My  feet  went  on  the  pilgrimage,  and  I  have 
brought  yovi  some  water  from  the  river  Jordan.  Come 
—  you  shall  have  it  —  but  whether  the  Lord  accepted 
my  labors  ' '  — 

''  Well,  glory  to  God,  Christ  save  us !  " 

Yefim  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

''  My  legs  took  me  there,  but  whether  it  was  my  soul 
that  was  there,  or  another's  "  — 

''  That  is  God's  affan*,  comrade,  God's  affair." 

"On  my  way  back  1  stopped  also  —  at  the  hut  where 
you  left  me  "  — 

Yelis^i  became  confused :  he  hastened  to  repeat,  — 

"  It's  God's  affair,  comrade,  God's  affair.  What 
say  you?^  shall  we  go  into  the  izbd?  —  I  will  bring 
you  some  honey." 

And  Yelisei  changed  the  conversation :  he  spoke 
about  domestic  affairs. 

Yefim  sighed,  and  did  not  again  remind  Yelisei'  of 
the  people  in  the  hut,  and  the  vision  of  him  that  he 
had  seen  in  Jerusalem.  And  he  learned  that  in  this 
world  God  bids  every  one  do  his  duty  till  death  —  in 
love  and  good  deeds. 

1  CMo-zh. 


TEXTS  FOR  WOOD-CUTS. 

1885. 


THE   devil's   persistent,  BUT   GOD    IS    RESISTA.NT.^ 

There  lived  in  old  time  a  good  master.^  He  had 
plenty  of  every  thing,  and  many  slaves  served  him. 
And  the  slaves  used  to  praise  their  master.^  They 
said,  — 

*'  There  is  not  a  better  master  under  heaven  than 
ours.  He  not  only  feeds  us  and  clothes  us  well,  and 
gives  us  work  according  to  our  strength,  but  he  never 
insults  any  of  us,  and  never  gets  angry  with  us  :  he  isn't 
like  other  masters,  who  treat  their  slaves  worse  than 
cattle,  and  kill  them  whether  they  are  to  blame  or  not, 
and  never  say  a  kind  word  to  them.  Our  master,  he 
wishes  us  well,  and  treats  us  kindly,  and  says  pleasant 
things  to  us.  We  couldn't  have  a  better  life  than 
ours." 

Thus  the  slaves  praised  their  master. 

And  here  the  Devil  began  to  get  vexed  because  the 
slaves  lived  in  comfort  and  love  with  their  master. 

And  the  Devil  got  hold  of  one  of  the  slaves  of  this 
master,  named  Al'yeb.  He  got  hold  of  him  —  com- 
manded him  to  entice  the  other  slaves. 

*  Vraghye  Lyepko  a  Boshye  Kryepko. 

*  Khozyain.  »  Gospodin,  Lord. 

178 


TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  179 

And  when  all  the  slaves  were  taking  their  rest,  and 
were  praising  their  master,  Al'yeb  raised  his  voice, 
and  said,  "  It's  all  nonsense  your  praising  our  master's 
goodness.  Try  to  humor  the  Devil,  and  the  Devil  will 
be  good.  "We  serve  our  master  well,  we  humor  him  in 
all  things.  As  soon  as  he  thinks  of  any  thing,  we  do 
it:  we  divine  his  thoughts.  How  make  him  be  not 
good  to  us?  Just  stop  humoring  him,  and  do  bad 
work  for  him,  and  he  will  be  like  all  the  others,  and 
he  will  return  evil  for  evil  worse  than  the  Grossest  of 
masters." 

And  the  other  slaves  began  to  argue  with  Alyeb. 
And  they  argued,  and  laid  a  wager.  Alyeb  undertook 
to  make  their  kind  master  angry.  He  undertook  it  on 
the  condition,  that,  if  he  does  not  make  him  angry,  he 
shall  give  his  Sunday  clothes ;  but  if  he  makes  him 
angry,  then  they  agree  to  give  him,  each  one  of  them, 
their  Sunday  clothes  ;  and,  moreover,  they  agree  to  pro- 
tect him  from  their  master,  if  he  should  be  put  in  irons, 
or,  if  thrown  in  prison,  to  free  him.  They  laid  the 
wager,  and  Al'yeb  promised  to  make  their  master  angry 
the  next  morning. 

Alyeb  served  his  master  in  the  sheep-cote :  he  had 
charge  of  the  costly  breeding-rams. 

And  here  in  the  morning  the  good  master  came  with 
some  guests  to  the  sheep-cote,  and  began  to  show 
them  his  beloved,  costly  rams.  The  Devil's  accomplice 
winked  to  his  comrades  :  — 

"  Look  !  I'll  soon  get  the  master  angry." 

All  the  slaves  had  gathered.  They  peeked  in  at  the 
door  and  through  the  fence  ;  and  the  Devil  climbed  into 
a  tree,  and  looks  down  into  the  dvor,  to  see  how  his 
accomplice  will  do  his  work. 

The  master  came  round  the  dvor,  showed  his  guests 


180  TEXTS  FOR   WOOD-CUTS. 

his  sheep  and  lambs,  and  then  was  going  to  show  his 
best  ram. 

*'  The  other  rams,"  says  he,  "are  good  ;  but  this  one 
here,  the  one  with  the  twisted  horns,  is  priceless  ;  he  is 
dearer  to  me  than  my  eyes.'* 

The  sheep  and  rams  are  jumping  about  the  dvor  to 
avoid  the  people,  and  the  guests  are  unable  to  examine 
the  valuable  ram.  This  ram  scarcely  comes  to  a  stop 
when  the  Devil's  accomplice,  as  though  accidentally, 
scares  the  sheep,  and  again  they  get  mixed  up. 

The  guests  are  unable  to  make  out  which  is  the  price- 
less ram. 

Here  the  master  became  tired.     He  says,  — 

"  Alyeb,  my  dear,  just  try  to  catch  the  best  ram 
with  the  wrinkled  horns,  and  hold  him.     Be  careful." 

And,  as  soon  as  the  master  said  this,  Al'yeb  threw 
himself,  like  a  lion,  amid  the  rams,  and  caught  the  price- 
less ram  by  the  wool.  He  caught  him  by  the  wool,  and 
instantly  grabbed  him  with  one  hand  by  the  left  hind- 
leg,  lifted  it  up,  and,  right  before  the  master's  eyes, 
bent  his  leg,  and  it  cracked  like  a  dry  stick.  Al'yeb 
broke  the  dear  ram's  leg  near  the  knee.  The  ram 
bleated,  and  fell  on  his  fore-knees.  Alyeb  grabbed 
him  by  the  right  leg  ;  but  the  left  turned  inside  out,  and 
hung  down  like  a  whip.  The  guests  and  all  the  slaves 
said,  "Akh  !  "  and  the  Devil  rejoiced  when  he  saw  how 
cleverly  Ar3'eb  had  done  his  job. 

The  khozyAin  grew  darker  than  night,  frowned,  hung 
his  head,  and  said  not  a  word.  The  guests  and  slaves 
were  also  silent.  ...  They  waited  to  see  what  would 
be. 

The  khozydi'n  kept  silent  a  while :  then  he  shook 
himself,  as  though  tr3'ing  to  throw  off  something,  and 
raised  his  head,  and  turned  his  eyes  heavenward.    Not 


TEXTS  FOR   WOOD-CUTS.  181 

long  he  gazed  before  the  wrinkles  on  his  brow  disap- 
peared :  he  smiled,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  Al'yeb.  He 
looked  at  Al'yeb,  smiled  again,  and  said,  ''  O  Al'yeb, 
Al'yeb  !  Thy  master  told  thee  to  make  me  angry.  But 
my  master  is  stronger  than  thine,  and  thou  hast  not 
led  me  into  anger ;  but  I  shall  make  thy  'master  angry. 
Thou  wert  afraid  that  I  would  punish  thee,  and  hast 
wished  to  be  free,  Al'yeb.  Know,  then,  that  thy  pun- 
ishment will  not  come  from  me  ;  but  as  thou  art  anxious 
for  thy  freedom,  here,  in  the  presence  of  my  guests,  I 
give  thee  thy  dismissal.  Go  wherever  it  may  please 
thee,^  and  take  thy  Sunday  clothes." 

And  the  kind  master  went  back  to  the  house  with 
his  guests.  But  the  Devil  gnashed  his  teeth,  fell  from 
the  tree,  and  sank  through  the  earth. 

LITTLE    GIRLS    WISER   THAN    OLD    MEN. 

Easter  was  early.  Sleighing  was  just  over.  The 
snow  still  lay  in  the  dvors,  and  little  streams  ran 
through  the  village.  In  an  alley  between  two  dvors  a 
large  pool  had  collected  from  the  dung-heaps.  And 
near  this  pool  were  standing  two  little  girls  from  either 
dvor,  —  one  of  them  younger,  the  other  older. 

The  mothers  of  the  two  little  girls  had  dressed  them 
in  new  sarafans,  —  the  younger  one's  blue,  the  elder's 
of  yellow  flowered  damask.  Both  were  tied  with  red 
handkerchiefs.  The  little  girls,  after  mass  was  over,  had 
gone  to  the  pool,  showed  each  other  their  dresses,  and 
began  to  play.  And  the  whim  seized  them  to  splash 
in  the  water.  The  younger  one  was  just  going  to  wade 
into  the  pool  with  her  little  slippers  on  ;  but  the  older 
one  said,  — 

"Don't  do  it,  Malashka  —  your  mother  will  scold. 

1  Literally,  **  to  all  four  sides." 


182  TEXTS  FOE   WOOD-CUTS. 

I'm  going  to  take  off  my  shoes  and  stockings  —  you 
take  off  yours." 

The  little  girls  took  off  their  shoes  and  stockings, 
held  up  their  clothes,  and  went  into  the  pool  so  as  to 
meet.    Malashka  waded  in  up  to  her  ankles,  and  says,  — 

"  It's  deep,  Akuliushka  —  1  am  afraid." 

''This  is  nothing.  It  won't  be  any  deeper.  Come 
right  toward  me." 

They  began  to  get  nearer  each  other,     ^nd  Akulka 


''  Be  careful,  Malashka,  don't  splash,  but  go  more 
slowly." 

But  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  her  mouth,  when 
Malashka  put  her  foot  down  into  the  water :  it  splashed 
straight  on  Akulka's  sarafan.  The  sarafan  was  well 
spattered,  and  it  flew  into  her  nose  and  eyes. 

Akulka  saw  the  spots  on  her  sarafan :  she  became 
angry  with  Malashka,  scolded  her,  ran  after  her,  tried 
to  slap  her. 

Malashka  was  frightened  seeing  what  mischief  she 
bad  done,  leaped  out  of  the  pool,  hastened  home. 

Akulka's  mother  happened  to  pass  by,  saw  her  little 
daughter's  sarafan  spattered,  and  her  shirt  bedaubed. 

''  How  did  you  get  yourself  all  covered  with  dirt,  you 
good-for-nothing?  " 

''Malashka  spattered  me  on  purpose." 

Akulkin's  mother  caught  Malashka,  and  struck  her 
on  the  back  of  the  head. 

Malashka  howled  along  the  whole  street.  Malash- 
kin's  mother  came  out :  — 

"What  are  you  striking  my  daughter  for?"  She 
began  to  scold  her  neighbor.  A  word  for  a  word  :  the 
women  got  into  a  quarrel.  The  muzhiks  hastened  out, 
a  great  crowd  gathered  on  the  street.     All  are  scream- 


TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  183 

ing.  No  one  listens  to  anybody.  They  quarrel,  and 
the  one  jostled  the  other ;  there  was  a  general  row  im- 
minent:  but  an  old  woman,  Akulkiu's  grandmother,^ 
interfered. 

She  came  out  into  the  midst  of  the  muzhiks,  and  be- 
gan to  speak  :  "  What  are  you  doing,  neighbors?  What 
day  is  it?  We  ought  to  rejoice.  And  you  are  doing 
such  wrong  things  !  " 

They  heed  not  the  old  woman  :  they  almost  strike 
her.  And  the  old  woman  would  never  have  succeeded 
in  [persuading  them,  had  it  not  been  for  Akulka  and 
Malashka.  While  the  babas  were  keeping  up  the  quar- 
rel, Akulka  cleaned  her  sarafanchik,  and  came  out 
again  to  the  pool  in  the  alley.  She  picked  up  a  little 
stone,  and  began  to  clear  away  the  earth  by  the  pool, 
so  as  to  let  the  water  run  into  the  street. 

While  she  was  cleaning  it  out,  Malashka  also  came 
along,  began  to  help  her  —  to  make  a  little  gutter  with 
a  splinter. 

The  muzhiks  were  just  coming  to  blows  when  the 
water  reached  the  street,  flowing  through  the  gutter 
made  by  the  little  girls ;  and  it  went  straight  to  the 
very  spot  where  the  old  woman  was  trying  to  separate 
the  muzhiks. 

The  little  girls  are  chasing  it,  one  on  one  side,  the 
other  on  the  other,  of  the  runnel. 

''Catch  it,  Malashka!  catch  it!'*  cries  Akulka. 
Malashka  also  tries  to  say  something,  but  laughter  pre- 
vents. 

Thus  the  little  girls  chase  it,  and  laugh  as  the  splin- 
ter swims  down  the  runnel. 

They  ran  right  into  the  midst  of  the  muzhiks.  The 
old  woman  saw  them,  and  she  says  to  the  muzhiks,  — 

»  Babka. 


184  TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS. 

"You  should  fear  Gocl,  you  muzhiks!  it  was  on 
account  of  the  same  little  girls  that  you  picked  up 
a  quarrel,  but  they  forgot  all  about  it  long  ago : 
dear  little  things,  they  are  playing  together  lovingly 
again." 

The  muzhiks  looked  at  the  little  girls,  and  felt 
ashamed.  Then  the  muzhiks  laughed  at  themselves, 
and  went  home  to  their  dvors. 

"If  ye  are  not  like  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God." 

TWO   BROTHERS    AND    GOLD. 

Once  upon  a  time,  there  lived,  not  far  from  Jerusa- 
lem, two  brothers,  the  elder  Afanasi,  and  the  younger 
one  Yoann.  They  lived  on  a  mountain,  not  far  from 
the  city,  and  subsisted  on  what  men  gave  them.  The 
brothers  spent  all  their  time  in  work.  They  did  not 
work  on  their  own  work,  but  on  work  for  the  poor. 
Wherever  there  were  people  worn  out  by  work,  wher- 
ever they  were  ill,  or  orphans  or  widows,  there  the 
brothers  would  go,  and  there  they  would  work,  and 
on  their  departure  take  no  pay.  Thus  the  brothers 
spent  a  whole  week  at  a  time,  and  met  at  their  dwell- 
ing. Only  on  Sunday  they  staid  at  home,  prayed  and 
talked.  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  them  and 
blessed  them.  On  Monday  they  parted,  each  his  own 
way. 

Thus  the  brothers  lived  many  summers ;  and  every 
week  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  them,  and  blessed 
them. 

One  Monday,  when  the  brothers  were  going  out  to 
work,  and  had  already  started  down  different  sides, 
the  elder,  Afandsi,  began  to  feel  sorry  to  part  from 
his  beloved  brother ;  and  he  halted,  and  looked  back. 


TEXTS   FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  185 

Yoann  was  walking  on  his  way,  with  head  bent,  and 
not  looking  up. 

But  suddenly  Yoann  also  stopped,  and,  as  though  he 
saw  something,  began  to  gaze  back  intently,  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Then  he  approached  what  he 
was  looking  at :  then  suddenly  he  leaped  to  one  side, 
and,  without  looking  round,  ran  to  the  base  of  the 
mountain,  and  up  the  mountain,  away  from  that  place, 
as  though  a  wild  beast  were  pursuing  him. 

Afandsi  was  surprised,  and  turned  back  to  the  place 
to  see  what  had  scared  his  brother  so.  * 

As  he  approached  nearer,  he  saw  something  glisten- 
ing in  the  sun.  He  came  still  nearer.  On  the  grass, 
as  though  thrown  out  from  a  measure,  is  lying  a  heap 
of  gold. 

And  Afanasi  was  still  more  astonished,  both  at  the 
gold,  and  at  his  brother's  flight. 

"What  scared  him?  and  why  did  he  run  away?'* 
asked  AfanAsi  of  himself.  '*  There  is  no  sin  in  gold: 
sin  is  in  man.  Gold  can  do  no  harm  :  it  may  do  good. 
How  many  widows  and  orphans  this  gold  can  nourish ! 
how  many  naked  it  can  clad  !  how  many  poor  and  sick 
it  can  heal !  We  are  now  serving-men  ;  but  our  ser- 
vice is  small,  just  as  our  strength  is  small.  But  with 
this  gold,  we  can  be  of  better  service  to  people." 
Thus  reasoned  Afandsi,  and  he  wanted  to  tell  all  this 
to  his  brother  ;  but  Yoann  was  already  gone  out  of  hear- 
ing, and  could  only  be  seen  now  hke  a  little  beetle  on 
the  other  mountain. 

And  Afandsi  took  off  his  coat,  filled  it  with  as  much 
gold  as  he  had  strength  to  lug,  put  it  on  his  shoulder, 
and  carried  it  to  the  city.  He  came  to  a  hotel,  depos- 
ited the  gold  with  the  hotel-keeper,  and  went  for  the 
rest  of  it. 


186  TEXTS   FOR    WOOD -CUTS. 

And  when  he  had  got  all  the  gold,  he  went  to  the 
merchpnts,  bought  land  in  the  city,  bought  bricks  and 
lumber,  engaged  laborers,  and  began  to  build  three 
houses. 

And  Afandsi  lived  in  the  city  three  months.  He 
built  in  the  city  three  houses,  —  one  house,  an  asylum 
for  widows  and  orphans ;  the  second  house,  a  hospital 
for  the  sick  and  poverty-stricken  ;  the  third  house,  for 
pilgrims  ^  and  beggars. 

And  Afanasi  found  three  pious  old  men  ;  and  one  of 
th&m  he  placed  over  the  asylum,  the  other  over  the 
hospital,  and  the  third  over  the  pilgrims'  home. 

And  still  Afandsi  had  left  three  thousand  gold-pieces. 
And  he  gave  to  each  of  the  old  men  a  thousand  to  dis- 
tribute among  the  poor. 

And  all  three  of  the  houses  began  to  fill  with  people, 
and  men  began  to  praise  AfanAsi  for  all  that  he  had 
done.  And  Afandsi  was  so  delighted  at  this,  that  he 
did  not  care  to  leave  the  city. 

But  Afandsi  loved  his  brother ;  and  having  said 
good-by  to  the  people,  and  not  leaving  himself  any 
money  at  all,  and  wearing  the  very  same  old  clothes  in 
which  he  had  come,  he  went  back  to  his  house. 

Afanasi  is  climbing  down  his  mountain,  and  think- 

iiig^  — 

"  My  brother  reasoned  wrong  when  he  jumped  away 
from  the  gold  and  fled.     Haven't  I  done  better?  " 

And  this  thought  had  scarcely  occurred  to  Afanasi, 
when  suddenly  he  sees  standing  right  in  his  path,  the 
same  angel  who  had  blessed  them  :  he  looks  sternly  at 
him. 

And  Afandsi  was  stupefied,  and  could  only  say,  — 

"What  is  it,  Lord?" 

1  Strdnniki. 


TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  187 

And  the  angel  opened  his  lips,  and  said,  — 

*'Get  thee  hence!  Thou  art  unworthy  to  live  with 
thy  brother.  Thy  brother's  one  leap  is  worth  more 
than  all  those  things  that  thou  hast  done  with  thy 
gold." 

And  Afandsi  began  to  tell  how  many  poor  and  wan- 
derers he  had  fed,  how  many  orphans  he  had  cared  for. 

And  the  angel  said  to  him,  — 

"  The  Devil,  who  put  down  the  gold  to  seduce  thee, 
also  taught  thee  these  words." 

And  then  Afandsi  felt  the  prick  of  conscience,  and 
understood  that  he  had  not  done  these  deeds  for  God's 
sake ;  and  he  burst  into  tears,  and  began  to  repent. 

Then  the  angel  stepped  out  of  the  road,  and  allowed 
him  to  pass;  and  there  stood  Yoann,  waiting  for  his 
brother.  And  from  that  time  Afandsi  did  not  give  in 
to  the  temptation  of  the  Devil  that  had  scattered  the 
gold  ;  and  he  learned  that  God  and  men  can  be  served, 
not  by  gold,  but  only  by  deeds. 

And  the  brothers  began  to  live  as  before. 

ILYAS. 

There  lived  in  the  government  of  Ufa  a  Bashkir, 
Ilyds.  Ilyds  was  left  poor  by  his  father.  His  father 
got  him  a  wife,  and  the  next  year  died.  At  that  time 
llyds's  possessions  consisted  of  seven  mares,  two  cows, 
and  a  score  of  sheep  :  but  Ilyds  was  a  good  manager,^ 
and  he  began  to  gain  ;  from  morning  till  night  he  and  his 
wife  worked  ;  he  got  up  earlier  than  any  one  else,  and 
went  to  bed  later  than  any  one  else,  and  each  year  he 
kept  getting  richer.  Thus  Ilyds  toiled  for  thirty-five 
years,  and  he  made  a  great  fortune. 

Ilyds  had  two  hundred  head  of  horse,  a  hundred  and 

1  Khozy<Xin. 


188  TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS. 

fifty  head  of  horned  cattle,  and  twelve  hundred  sheep. 
The  servants  pastured  the  flocks  and  herds ;  and  the 
maid-servants  milked  the  mares  and  cows,  and  made 
Icumys^  butter,  and  cheese. 

Ilyas  had  plenty  of  every  thing,  and  all  in  the  neigh- 
borhood envied  Ilyds's  life.     Men  said,  — 

"  Lucky  man,  Ilyds.  He  has  plenty  of  every  thing : 
he  doesn't  need*  to  die." 

Fine  people  began  to  get  acquainted  with  Ilyds,  and 
associate  with  him.  And  guests  came  to  visit  hira  from 
far  and  near.  And  Ilyas  received  them  all,  and  fed 
them  all,  and  gave  them  to  drink.  Whoever  came  had 
kumys  :  all  had  tea,  fish-broth,^  and  mutton.  As  soon 
as  guests  came,  he  would  immediately  have  a  ram 
killed,  or  two ;  and  if  many  came,  they  would  kill  a 
mare  also. 

Ilyds  had  two  sons  and  a  daughter.  He  married 
off  his  sons,  and  got  his  daughter  a  husband.  When 
Ilyds  was  poor,  his  sons  worked  with  him,  and  they 
themselves  pastured  the  flocks  and  herds ;  but  as  they 
became  rich,  the  sons  began  to  get  spoiled,  and  one 
took  to  drinking. 

One,  the  elder,  was  killed  m  a  brawl :  and  the  other, 
the  younger,  got  a  proud  wife ;  and  this  son  began  to 
be  disobedient  to  his  father,  and  1 1yds  was  compelled 
to  banish  him. 

Ilyds  banished  him,  but  gave  him  a  house  and  cat- 
tle ;  and  llj'ds's  wealth  was  diminished.  And  soon 
after  this  a  distemper  fell  upon  Ilyds's  sheep,  and 
many  perished.  Then  there  came  a  year  of  famine ; 
the  hay  did  not  ripen  ;  many  cattle  died  during  the 
winter.  Then  the  Kirgiz  carried  off  his  best  horses, 
and  Ilyds's  property  began  to  diminish. 

>  Sherbd,  or  shcherbd. 


TEXTS  FOR   WOOD-CUTS.  189 

Ilyas  began  to  fall  lower  and  lower.  And  his 
strength  was  less  than  it  had  been.  And  at  the  age  of 
seventy  years,  Ilyds  had  come  to  snch  a  pass  that  he 
began  to  sell  out  his  furs,  his  carpets,  saddles,  tip- 
carts,^  and  then  he  began  to  dispose  of  his  last  cattle, 
and  Ilyas  came  to  nothing. 

He  himself  did  not  realize  how  he  had  nothing  left ; 
but  he  and  his  wife  were  obliged,  in  their  old  age,  to 
hire  out  as  servants.  All  Ilyas's  possessions  consisted 
of  the  clothes  on  his  body,  his  shuba,  a  hat,  shoes,  and 
slippers — yes,  and  his  wife,  Sham-Shemagi,  now  an 
old  woman.  His  banished  son  had  gone  to  a  far-off 
land,  and  his  daughter  died.  And  then  there  was  no 
one  to  help  the  old  people. 

Their  neighbor,  Muhamedshah,  felt  sorry  for  the  old 
people.  Muhamedshah  himself  was  neither  poor  nor 
rich,  but  lived  in  medium  circumstances  ;  and  he  was  a 
good  man. 

He  remembered  Ilyas's  hospitality,^  and  pitied  him, 
and  said  to  Ilyds,  — 

"  Come,  Ilyds,"  saj's  he,  "  and  live  with  me  —  you 
and  your  old  woman.  In  summer  3'ou  can  work  for 
me  in  the  garden,  and  in  winter  take  care  of  the  cattle  ; 
and  Sham-Shemagi  may  milk  the  mares,  and  make 
kumj's.  I  will  feed  and  clothe  you  both :  and  what- 
ever you  need,  tell  me  ;  I  will  give  it." 

Ilyas  thanked  his  neighbor,  and  he  and  his  wife  be- 
gan to  live  with  Muhamedshah  as  servants.  At  first 
it  came  hard  to  them,  but  afterwards  they  got  used 
to  it ;  and  the  old  people  began  to  live,  and  work  as 
much  as  their  strength  permitted. 

The  khozyd'in  found  it  profitable  to  keep  such  people, 
because  they  had  been  masters^  themselves,  and  knew 

1  Kibitki.        «  Khlyib-col;  literally,  bread-salt.        »  Khozydeva, 


190  TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS. 

how  to  keep  things  orderly,  and  were  not  lazy,  and 
worked  according  to  their  strength  :  only  Muhamedshah 
felt  sorry  to  see  how  people  of  such  high  station 
should  have  fallen  to  such  a  low  condition. 

Once  it  came  to  pass,  that  some  guests,  distant 
kinsmen,  came  to  visit  Muhamedshah :  a  Mulla  came 
with  them. 

Muhamedshah  gave  orders  to  have  a  ram  caught  and 
killed.  Ilyas  dressed  the  ram,  cooked  it,  and  served 
it  to  the  guests.  The  guests  ate  the  mutton,  drank 
some  tea,  and  took  some  kumys. 

While  the  guests  are  sitting  with  the  khozyiiin  on 
down-pillows,  on  carpets,  are  drinking  kumys  out  of 
cups,  and  chatting,  Ilyas  had  finished  his  chores,  and 
was  passing  in  front  of  the  door. 

Muhamedshah  saw  him,  and  asked  a  guest,  — 

"  Did  you  see  that  old  man  who  went  by  the  door?" 

"I  saw  him,"  says  the  guest;  "but  what  is  there 
wonderful  in  him?  " 

''  This  is  remarkable,  — he  was  once  our  richest  man. 
His  name  is  Ilyds  :  maybe  you  have  heard  of  him?  " 

*'  Certainly  I  have,"  says  the  guest.  "  I  never  saw 
him  before,  but  his  fame  has  been  wide-spread." 

"  Now  he  has  nothing  at  all  left,  and  he  lives  out  at 
service  with  me  :  he  and  his  old  woman  milk  the  cows.'*' 

The  guest  was  amazed ;  snapped  his  tongue,  shook 
his  head,  and  says,  — 

"Yes,  this  shows  how  fortune  turns  round  like  a 
wheel :  he  who  is  on  top  gets  to  the  bottom.  Well,  I 
suppose  the  old  man  feels  pretty  bad  about  it?  " 

"  Who  can  tell  about  him?  He  lives  quietl}',  peace- 
fully ;  works  well." 

The  guest  says,  "  Can  I  have  a  talk  with  him?  I 
should  like  to  ask  him  about  his  life." 


TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  191 

"  Well,^  you  can,"  sa3'S  the  khozydi'n,  and  shouts 
toward  the  tip-cart,^  ''Babui  (means  little  grand- 
father^ in  Bashkhian),  come  in;  bring  some  kumys, 
and  call  your  old  woman." 

And  llyas  came  with  his  wife.  Ilyas  greeted  the 
guests  and  his  master,  repeated  a  prayer,  and  squatted 
down  by  the  door.  But  his  wife  went  behind  the  cur- 
tain, and  sat  with  her  mistress.* 

Ilyas  was  given  a  cup  of  kumys.  Ilyds  wished  the 
health. of  the  guests  and  of  his  master,  bowed,  sipped 
a  little,  and  set  it  down. 

*'  Well,  dyedushka,"  says  the  guest,  "  I  suppose 
3'ou  feel  rather  blue  looking  at  us,  to  remember  your 
past  life,  —  how  you  used  to  be  in  luck,  and  how  now 
your  life  is  spent  in  sorrow?  " 

And  11yds  smiled,  and  said,  "  If  I  told  you  about 
my  fortune  and  misfortune,  you  would  not  believe  me. 
Better  ask  my  baba.  She  is  a  baba, — what's  in  her 
heart's  on  her  tongue  also.  She  will  tell  you  the  whole 
truth  about  this  matter." 

And  the  host  called  to  the  curtain,  *'Well,  now,^ 
bdbushka,  tell  us  what  you  think  about  your  former 
luck,  and  your  present  misfortune." 

And  Sham-Shemagi  spoke  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain :  — 

"  This  is  what  I  think  about  it :  My  old  man  and  I 
have  lived  fiftj'  years.  We  sought  for  happiness,  and 
did  not  find  it ;  and  now  here  it  is  two  years  since  we 
lost  every  thing,  and  have  been  living  out  at  service ; 
and  we  have  found  real  happiness,  and  ask  for  nothing 
better." 

The  guests  were  amazed ;  and  the  khozydin  was 
amazed,  and  even  rose  from  his  seat,  lifted  the  curtain 

1  Chto-zh.     2  Eibitka.     ^  DyMuahka.     *  Khozyaika.     ^  Nu,  chto-gh. 


192  TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS. 

to  look  at  the  old  woman  ;  and  the  old  woman  is  standi 
ing,  with  folded  arms.  She  smiles  as  she  looks  at  her 
old  man,  and  the  old  man  smiles  back.  The  old  wo- 
man went  on,  "I  am  speaking  the  truth,  not  jesting. 
We  sought  for  happiness  for  half  a  centur}^  and  as 
long  as  we  were  rich  we  did  not  find  it ;  but  now  that 
we  have  notliing  left,  and  have  to  go  out  to  service, 
we  have  found  such  happiness  that  we  ask  for  nothing 
better." 

"  But  wherein  consists  your  happiness  now?  " 

'^  Well,  in  this  :  while  we  were  rich,  my  old  man  and 
I  never  had  an  hour's  rest.  We  never  had  time  to  talk, 
nor  to  think  about  our  souls,  nor  to  pray  to  God. 
There  was  nothing  for  ns  but  care.  When  we  had 
guests,  it  was  a  bother  how  to  treat  them,  what  to  give 
them,  so  that  they  might  not  talk  ill  about  us.  Then, 
when  guests  went  away,  we  had  to  look  after  our  work- 
people :  they  must  have  rest,  they  must  have  enough 
to  eat,  and  we  must  see  to  it  that  nothing  that  is  ours 
gets  lost.  So  we  sinned.  Then,  again,  care  lest  the 
wolf  should  kill  a  colt  or  a  calf,  or  lest  thieves  should 
drive  off  our  horses.  You  lay  down  to  sleep,  you  can't 
sleep  for  fear  the  sheep  trample  the  lambs.  You  go 
out,  you  walk  in  the  night :  you  just  get  yourself 
calmed  down  —  again,  care  how  to  get  food  for  the 
winter.  Besides  this,  my  old  man  and  I  never  agreed. 
He  says  we  must  do  so,  and  I  say  we  must  do  so ;  and 
we  begin  to  quarrel,  we  sin.  So  we  lived  in  worry  and 
care,  in  worry  and  care,  and  never  knew  the  happiness 
of  life." 

"Well,  and  now?" 

"  Now  when  my  old  man  and  I  get  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, we  always  have  a  talk,  in  love  and  sj^mpathy  ;  we 
have  nothing  to  quarrel  about,  nothing  to  worry  about ; 


TEXTS  FOR    WOOD-CUTS.  193 

our  only  care  is  to  serve  our  kboz3^ain.  We  work 
according  to  our  strength,  we  work  willingly,  so  that 
our  khozyain  may  not  lose,  but  gain.  When  we  come 
in,  we  have  dinner,  we  have  supper,  we  have  kumj^s. 
If  it  is  cold,  we  have  our  kizydk^  to  warm  us,  and  a 
sheepskin  shuba.  And  we  have  time  to  talk  and  think 
about  our  souls,  and  to  pray  to  God.  For  fifty  years 
we  sought  for  happiness,  aud  only  now  we  have 
found  it!" 

The  guests  began  to  laugh. 

But  Ilyds  said, — 

'^  Don't  laugh,  brothers :  this  thing  is  no  jest,  but 
human  life.  And  the  old  woman  and  I  were  foolish 
when  we  wept  over  the  loss  of  our  property,  but  now 
God  has  revealed  the  truth  to  us  ;  and  it  is  not  for  our 
own  consolation,  but  for  your  good,  that  we  reveal  it 
to  you.'* 

And  the  MuUa  said,  "This  is  a  wise  "saying,  and 
Ilyds  has  told  the  exact  truth  ;  and  this  is  written  also 
in  the  Scriptures." 

And  the  guests  ceased  laughing,  and  were  lost  in 
tliought. 

>  Mzydk,  or  tizydk,  a  Tatar  word,  meauiug  a  brick  made  of  dried  dung. 


THE    THEEE    MENDICxiNTS. 

1886. 


"  But  when  ye  pmy,  use  not  vain  repetitions,  as  the  heathen  do :  for  they 
think  that  they  shall  be  heard  for  their  much  spealiing. 

Be  not  ye  therefore  lilie  unto  thenar  for  your  Father  Knoweth  what 
things  ye  have  need  of,  before  ye  ask  him."  —  Matt.  vi.  6,  7. 

A  BiSFiop  set  sail  in  a  ship  from  the  city  of  Arch- 
angel to  Solovkl.^  In  the  same  ship  sailed  some  pil- 
grims to  the  saints. 

The  wind  was  favorable,  the  weather  clear,  the  sea 
was  not  rough.  The  pilgrims,  as  they  were  lying  down, 
as  they  were  lunching,  as  they  were  sitting  in  a  crowd, 
conversed  together. 

The  bishop  came  on  deck,  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
on  the  bridge.  As  he  approaches  the  bow,  he  sees 
the  people  crowded  together.  A  little  muzliik  is  point- 
ing his  hand  at  something  in  the  sea,  and  talking ;  and 
the  people  are  listening. 

The  bishop  stood  still,  and  looked  in  the  direction 
that  the  muzliitclidk  was  pointing:  nothing  is  to  be 
seen,  except  the  sea  glistening  in  the  sun. 

The  bishop  came  closer,  began  to  listen.  When  tlie 
muzliitclidk  saw  the  bishop,  he  took  off  his  cap,  and 
stopped  speaking.  The  people  also,  when  they  saw 
the  bishop,  took  off  their  shapkas,  and  paid  their 
respects. 

*  The  Sloveteky  Monastery,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Dviua  Biver. 
194 


THE   THREE  MENDICANTS.  195 

*' Don't  mind  me,  brothers,"  said  the  bishop.  *' I 
have  also  come  to  listen  to  what  you  are  saying,  my 
good  friend.'* ' 

''This  fisherman  was  telling  us  about  some  mendi- 
cants,"^ said  a  merchant,  taking  courage. 

''What  about  the  mendicants  ?"  asked  the  bishop, 
as  he  came  to  the  gunwale,  and  sat  down  on  a  box. 
"  Tell  me  too  :  I  should  like  to  hear.  What  were  j^ou 
pointing  at?  " 

"  Well,  then, 2  yonder's  the  little  island  just  heaving 
in  sight,"  said  the  little  peasant;  and  he  pointed 
toward  the  port-side.  "  On  that  very  islet,  three  men- 
dicants^ live,  working  out  their  salvation.'- 

"  Where  is  the  little  island?  "  asked  the  bishop. 

"  Here,  look  along  my  arm,  if  3'ou  please.  Way 
out  there,  at  the  left  of  that  little  cloud,  you  can  see 
it." 

The  bishop  looked  and  looked :  the  water  gleamed 
in  the  sun,  and  he  could  see  nothing  unusual. 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  says  he.  "  What  sort  of  mendi- 
cants are  they  who  live  on  the  little  island  ?  ' ' 

"Hermits,"^  replied  the  peasant.  "For  a  long 
time  I  had  heard  tell  of  'em,  but  I  never  chanced  to 
see  them  until  last  summer." 

And  the  fisherman  again  began  to  relate  how  he  had 
been  out  fishing,  and  how  he  was  driven  to  that  island, 
and  knew  not  where  he  was.  In  the  morning  he  started 
to  look  around,  and  stumbled  upon  a  little  earthen  hut ; 
and  he  found  in  the  hut  one  mendicant,  and  then  two 
others  came  in.  They  fed  him,  and  dried  him,  and 
helped  him  repair  his  boat. 

"  What  sort  of  men  were  they?  "  asked  the  bishop. 

*  StdrtHui.  2  Da  vot. 

s  Bozhi  liudi,  usually  the  term  for  monks. 


196  THE  THREE  MENDICANTS. 

"  One  was  rather  small,  humpbacked,  very,  very  old  ; 
he  was  dressed  in  well-worn  stole  ;  he  must  have  been 
more  than  a  hundred  years  old  ;  his  beaBd  was  already 
silvery  white ;  but  he  always  had  a  smile  ready,  and  he 
was  as  serene  as  an  angel  of  heaven.  The  second  was 
taller,  also  old,  in  a  torn  kaftan  ;  his  long  beard  was 
growing  a  little  3^ellowish,  but  he  was  a  strong  man ; 
he  turned  my  boat  over, — a  tub,  —  and  I  didn't  even 
have  to  help  him :  he  was  also  a  jolly  man.  But  the 
third  was  tall,  with  a  long  beard  reaching  to  his  knee, 
and  white  as  the  moon  ;  but  he  was  gloomy  ;  his  eyes 
glared  out  from  under  beetling  brows  ;  and  he  was 
naked,  all  save  a  plaited  belt." 

''  What  did  they  say  to  you?  "  asked  the  bishop. 

*'  They  did  every  thing  mostly  without  speaking,  and 
they  talked  very  little  among  themselves  :  one  had  only 
to  look,  and  the  other  understood.  I  began  to  ask  the 
tall  one  if  the^^  had  lived  there  long.  He  frowned,  mut- 
tered something,  grew  almost  angry  :  then  the  little  old 
man  instantly  seized  him  by  the  hand,  smiled,  and  the 
large  man  said  nothing.  .  But  the  old  man  said,  '  Ex- 
cuse us,*  and  smiled." 

While  the  peasant  was  speaking,  the  ship  sailed 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  islands. 

*' There,  now  you  can  see  plainly,"  said  the  merr 
chant.  ''Now  please  look,  your  reverence,"  ^  said  he, 
pointing.  The  bishop  tried  to  look,  and  he  barely 
managed  to  make  out  a  black  speck  —  the  little 
island. 

The  bishop  gazed  and  gazed  ;  and  he  went  from  the 
bow  to  the  stern,  and  he  approached  the  helmsman. 

"  AVhat  is  that  little  island,"  says  he,  "  that  you  see 
over  yonder?" 

1  Vashe  preoavyashchinstvo. 


THE   THREE  MENDICANTS.  197 

''  So  far  as  I  know,  it  hasn't  any  name  :  good  many 
of  'em  here." 

''Is  it  true  what  they  say,  that  some  mendicants  live 
there?" 

''They  say  so,  your  reverence,  but  I  don't  rightly 
know.  Fishermen,  they  say,  have  seen  'em.  Still, 
folks  talk  a  good  deal  of  nonsense." 

"I  should  like  to  laud  on  the  little  island,  and  see 
the  mendicants,"  said  the  bishop.  "  How  can  I  man- 
age it?" 

"  It  is  impossible  to  go  there  in  the  ship,"  said  the 
helmsman.  "  You  might  do  it  in  a  boat,  but  you  will 
have  to  ask  the  captain.     Call  the  captain." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  sight  of  those  mendicants," 
said  the  bishop.  "Is  it  out  of  the  question  to  take  me 
there?" 

The  captain  tried  to  dissuade  him. 

"It  is  possible,  quite  possible,  but  we  should  waste 
much  time  ;  and  I  take  the  liberty  of  assuring  your  rev- 
erence, it  isn't  worth  your  while  to  see  them.  I  have 
heard  from  people  that  those  old  men  live  like  perfect 
stupids  ;  don't  understand  any  thing,  and  can't  say  any 
thing,  just  like  some  sort  of  sea-fish." 

"  I  wish  it,"  said  the  bishop.  "I  will  pay  for  the 
trouble,  if  you  will  take  me  there." 

There  '»/a9  rotliing  else  to  be  done :  the  sailors 
arranged  it ;  the}'  shifted  sail.  The  helmsman  put  the 
ship  about :  they  sailed  toward  the  island.  A  chair 
was  set  for  the  bishop  on  the  bow.  He  sat  down  and 
looked.  And  all  tiie  people  gathered  on  the  bow,  all 
look  at  the  little  island.  And  those  who  have  trust- 
worthy eyes,  already  see  rocks  on  the  island,  and  point 
out  the  hut.  And  one  even  saw  the  three  mendicants. 
The   captain   got  out  a  spy -glass,  gazed  through  it, 


198  THE   THREE  MENDICANTS. 

handed  it io  the  bishop:  "Exactly,"  says  he,  "  there 
on  the  shore  at  the  right,  standing  on  a  great  rock, 
are  three  men." 

The  bishop  also  looked  through  the  glass  ;  he  sights 
where  it  must  be  ;  plainly  the  three  men  are  standing 
there,  — one  tall,  the  second  shorter,  but  the  third  very 
short.  They  are  standing  on  the  shore,  they  cling  on 
with  their  hands. 

The  captain  came  to  the  bishop  :  — 

"  Here,  your  reverence,  the  ship  must  come  to  an- 
chor: if  it  suit  you,  you  can  be  put  ashore  in  a  3'awl, 
and  we  will  anchor  out  here." 

Immediately  they  got  the  tackle  ready,  lowered  the 
anchor,  furled  the  sails :  the  vessel  brought  up,  began 
to  roll.  They  lowered  a  boat,  the  rowers  manned  it, 
and  the  bishop  began  to  climb  down  by  the  companion- 
way.  The  bishop  climbed  down,  took  his  seat  on  the 
thwart :  the  rowers  lifted  their  oars  ;  they  sped  away 
to  the  island.  They  sped  away  like  a  stone  from  a 
sling  :  they  see  the  three  old  men  standing,  —  the  tall 
one  naked,  with  his  plaited  belt ;  the  shorter  one  in 
his  torn  kaftan ;  and  the  little  old  humpbacked  one, 
in  his  old  stole,  —  all  three  are  standiuoj  there,  clinffiusr 
on  with  their  hands. 

The  sailors  made  for  shore,  caught  on  with  the  boat-' 
hook.     The  bishop  got  out. 

The  mendicants  bowed  before  him  ;  he  blessed  them ; 
they  bowed  still  lower.  And  the  bishop  began  to  speak 
to  them :  — 

"I  heard,"  says  he,  "that  you  hermits  were  here, 
working  out  your  salvation,  followers  of  Christ ;  that 
you  worship  God:  and  I  am  here  by  God's  grace,  an 
unworthy  servant  of  Christ,  called  to  be  a  shepherd 
to  his   flock;   and   so  I  desired  also,  if   I  might,  to 


THE  THREE  MENDICANTS.  199 

give  instruction  to  you,  who  are  the  servants  of 
God.'* 

The  mendicants  made  no  reply :  they  smiled,  they 
exchanged  glances. 

"Tell  me  how  you  are  working  out  your  salvation, 
and  how  3'ou  serve  God,"  said  the  bishop. 

The  middle  mendicant  sighed,  and  looked  at  the 
aged  one,  at  the  venerable  one  :  the  tall  stdrets  frowned, 
and  looked  at  the  aged  one,  at  the  venerable  one.  And 
the  venerable  old  stdrets  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  Servant  of  God,  we  have  not  the  skill  to  serve 
God :  we  only  serve  ourselves,  getting  something  to 
eat." 

"  How  do  you  pray  to  God?  "  asked  the  bishop. 

And  the  venerable  stdrets  said,  "We  pray  thus: 
'  You  three,  have  mercy  on  us  three.'  "  ^ 

And  as  soon  as  the  venerable  stdrets  said  this,  all 
three  of  the  mendicants  raised  their  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
all  three  said,  "  Trde  vas,  trde  nas^  promilui  nas!  " 

The  bishop  smiled,  and  said,  "  You  have  heard  this 
about  the  Holy  Trinity,  but  you  should  not  pray  so. 
I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  men  of  God.  I  see  that 
you  desire  to  please  God,  but  you  know  not  how  to 
serve  him.  You  should  not  pray  so  ;  but  listen  to  me, 
I  will  teach  you.  I  shall  not  teach  you  my  own  words, 
but  shall  teach  j'ou  from  God's  scriptures  how  God 
commanded  all  people  to  pray  to  God." 

And  the  bishop  began  to  explain  to  the  mendicants 
how  God  revealed  himself  to  men.  He  taught  them 
about  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  said,  "God  the  Son  came  upon  earth  to 
save  men,  and  this  is  the  waj'  he  taught  all  men  to 
pray  :  listen,  and  repeat  after  me  "  — 

*  Trde  vas,  trde  nas,  pomilui  nasi  '* 


200  THE  THREE  MENDICANTS. 

And  the  bishop  began  to  say,  "  Our  Father.'*  And 
one  stdrets  repeated  ''  Our  Father^''  and  then  the  sec- 
ond repeated  "  Our  Father^'"  and  the  third  also  re- 
peated '*  Our  Father,*'  —  "  Wlio  art  in  heaven;  "  and 
the  mendicants  tried  to  repeat,  "  Wlio  art  in  heaven.'* 

But  the  middle  mendicant  mixed  the  words  np ;  he 
could  not  repeat  them  so :  and  the  tall,  naked  stare ts 
could  not  repeat  them  ;  his  lips  had  grown  together  — 
he  could  not  speak  distinctly  :  and  the  venerable,  tooth- 
less starets  could  not  stammer  the  words  intelligibly. 

The  bishop  said  it  a  second  time :  the  mendicants 
repeated  it  again.  And  the  bishop  sat  down  on  a  little 
bowlder,  and  the  mendicants  stood  about  him  ;  and  they 
looked  at  his  lips,  and  they  repeated  it  after  him  until 
they  knew  it.  And  all  that  day  till  evening  the  bishop 
labored  with  them ;  and  ten  times,  and  twenty  times, 
and  a  hundred  times,  he  repeated  each  word,  and  the 
mendicants  learned  it  by  rote.  And  when  they  got 
entangled,  he  set  them  right,  and  made  them  begin  all 
over  again. 

And  the  bishop  did  not  leave  the  mendicants  until 
he  had  taught  them  the  whole  of  the  Lord's  Pra3'er. 
They  repeated  it  after  him,  and  then  by  themselves. 

First  of  all,  the  middle  starets  learned  it,  and  he  re- 
peated it  from  beginning  to  end  ;  and  the  bishop  bade 
him  say  it  again  and  again,  and  still  again  to  repeat  it  ; 
and  the  others  also  learned  the  whole  prayer. 

It  was  already  beginning  to  grow  dark,  and  the  moon 
began  to  come  up  out  of  the  sea,  when  the  bishop  arose 
to  go  back  to  the  ship. 

The  bishop  said  farewell  to  the  mendicants  :  they  all 
bowed  very  low  before  him.  He  took  them,  and  kissed 
each,  bade  them  pray  as  he  had  taught  them  ;  and  he 
took  his  seat  in  the  boat,  and  returned  to  the  ship. 


THE  THREE  MENDICANTS.  201 

And  while  the  bishop  was  rowed  back  to  the  ship,  he 
heard  all  the  time  how  the  mendicants  wers  repeating 
the  Lord's  Prayer  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

They  returned  to  the  ship,  and  here  the  voices  of  the 
mendicants  was  no  longer  heard ;  but  they  could  still 
see,  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  the  three  old  men  stand- 
ing in  the  very  same  place  on  the  shore,  — one  shorter 
than  the  rest  in  the  middle,  with  the  tall  one  on  the 
right,  and  the  other  on  the  left  hand. 

The  bishop  returned  to  the  ship,  climbed  up  on  deck ; 
the  anchor  was  hoisted ;  the  sails  were  spread,  and 
bellied  with  wind ;  the  ship  moved  off,  and  they  sailed  a 
long  way. 

The  bishop  came  to  the  stern,  and  took  a  seat  there, 
and  kept  looking  at  the  little  island.  At  first  the  men- 
dicants were  to  be  seen ;  then  they  were  hidden  from 
sight,  and  only  the  island  was  visible ;  and  then  the 
island  went  out  of  sight,  and  only  the  sea  was  left  play- 
ing in  the  moonlight. 

The  pilgrims  lay  down  to  sleep,  and  all  was  quiet 
on  deck.  But  the  bishop  cared  not  to  sleep  :  he  sat  by 
himself  in  the  stern,  looked  out  over  the  sea  in  the  di- 
rection where  the  island  had  faded  from  sight,  and 
thought  about  the  good  mendicants. 

He  thought  of  how  they  had  rejoiced  in  what  they 
had  learned  in  the  prayer  ;  and  he  thanked  God  because 
he  had  led  him  to  the  help  of  the  hermits,  in  teaching 
them  the  word  of  God. 

Thus  the  bishop  is  sitting,  thinking,  looking  at  the 
sea  in  the  direction  where  the  little  island  lay  hid- 
den. And  his  eyes  are  filled  with  the  moonlight, 
as  it  dances  here  and  there  on  the  waves.  Suddenly 
he  sees  something  shining  and  gleaming  white  in 
the   track   of  the   moon.      Is  it  a  bird,  a  gull,  or  a 


202  THE  THREE  MENDICANTS. 

boat-sail  gleaming  white?  The  bishop  strains  his 
sight. 

"A  sail-boat,"  he  thinks,  "is  chasing  us.  Yes,  it 
is  catching  up  with  us  very  rapidly.  It  was  far,  far 
off,  but  now  it  is  close  to  us.  But,  after  all,  it  is  not 
much  like  a  sail-boat.  Anyway,  something  is  chasing 
us,  and  catching  up  with  us.'* 

And  the  bishop  cannot  decide  what  it  is,  —  a  boat,  or 
not  a  boat ;  a  bird,  or  not  a  bird  ;  a  fish,  or  not  a  fish. 
It  is  like  a  man,  but  very  great;  and  a  man  cannot 
be  in  the  midst  of  the  sea. 

The  bishop  got  up,  went  to  the  helmsman. 

"Look!"  says  he,  "what  is  that?  what  is  that, 
brother?  what  is  it?"  says  the  bishop.  But  by  this 
time,  he  himself  sees.  It  is  the  mendicants  running 
over  the  sea.  Their  gray  beards  gleam  white,  and 
shine ;  and  they  draw  near  the  ship  as  though  it  were 
stationary. 

The  helmsman  looked.  He  was  scared,  dropped  the 
tiller,  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  — 

"  Lord  !  the  mendicants  are  running  over  the  sea  as 
though  it  were  dry  land  !  " 

The  people  hear,  spring  up,  all  rush  aft.  All  behold 
the  mendicants  running,  clinging  hand  in  hand.  The 
end  ones  swing  their  arms :  they  signal  to  come  to. 
All  three  run  over  the  water  as  though  it  were  dry  land, 
and  do  not  move  their  feet. 

It  was  not  possible  to  bring  the  ship  to  before  the 
mendicants  overtook  it,  came  on  board,  raised  their 
heads,  and  said  with  one  voice,  — 

"We  have  forgotten,  servant  of  God,  we  have  for- 
gotten what  thou  didst  teach  us.  While  we  were  learn- 
ing it,  we  remembered  it ;  but  when  we  ceased  for  an 
hour  to  repeat  it,  one  word  slipped  away ;  we  forgot  it ; 


THE  THREE  MENDICANTS.  203 

the  whole  was  lost.  "We  remember  none  of  it :  teach  it 
to  us  again." 

The  bishop  crossed  himself,  bowed  low  to  the  men- 
dicants, and  said,  — 

"  Acceptable  to  God  is  your  pra3'er,  ye  hermits. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  teach  you.     Pray  for  us,  sinners." 

And  the  bishop  bowed  before  the  feet  of  the  mendi- 
cants. And  the  mendicants  paused,  turned  about,  and 
went  back  over  the  sea.  And  in  the  morning,  there 
was  something  seen  shining  in  the  place  where  the 
meodicauts  had  come  on  board. 


POPULAR    LEGENDS. 

1886. 


HOW   THE   LITTLE   DEVIL   EARNED   A   CRUST 
OF  BREAD. 

A  POOR  muzhik  was  going  out  to  plough,  though  he 
had  eaten  no  breakfast ;  and  he  took  with  him,  from 
the  house,  a  crust  of  bread.  The  muzhik  turned  over 
his  plough,  unfastened  the  bar,  put  it  under  the  bush  ; 
and  then  he  left  his  crust  of  bread,  and  covered  it 
with  his  kaftan.  The  horse  was  almost  dead,  and  the 
muzhik  was  very  hungry.  The  muzhik  turned  over  the 
plough,  unhitched  the  horse,  gave  her  something  to  eat, 
and  went  to  his  kaftan  to  get  a  bite  for  himself.  The 
muzhik  picked  up  his  kaftan  :  the  crust  was  gone.  He 
hunted  and  hunted  ;  turned  his  kaftan  inside  out,  shook 
it:  there  was  no  crust.  The  muzhik  was  amazed. 
"This  is  a  marvellous  thing,*'  he  thinks.  "  I  haven't 
seen  any  one,  and  yet  some  one  has  carried  off  my 
crust.** 

But  a  little  devil  ^  had  stolen  the  crust  while  the 
muzhik  was  ploughing,  and  had  taken  his  seat  on  a 
shrub  to  listen  how  the  muzhik  would  swear,  and  call 
him,  the  devil,  by  name. 

The  muzhik  was  disappointed. 

"  Well,  now,^  I  am  not  going  to  die  of  starvation. 

»  Chortydnok.  »  Nu  da. 

201 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  205 

Of  course,  the  one  that  took  it  must  have  needed  it. 
Let  him  eat  it,  and  be  welcome." 

And  the  muzhik  went  to  the  well,  got  a  drink  of 
water,  sighed,  caught  his  horse,  harnessed  her,  and 
began  to  plough  again. 

The  little  devil  was  vexed  because  he  had  not  led 
the  muzhik  into  sin,  and  he  went  to  tell  about  it  to  the 
biggest  of  the  devils.  He  came  to  the  bigger  one,  and 
told  him  how  he  had  stolen  the  crust  from  the  muzhik : 
instead  of  getting  angry,  he  had  said,  "  Be  welcome." 
The  big  devil  was  angry.  "  Why,"  says  he,  "in  this 
affair  the  muzhik  has  got  the  better  of  you :  thou  thy- 
self art  to  blame  for  it;  thou  wert  not  wise.  If," 
says  he,  "  muzhiks,  and  next  to  them  babas,  were  to 
be  caught  by  any  such  trick,  it  wouldn't  be  of  any  use 
for  us  to  be  in  existence.  It's  no  use  arranging  the 
thing  that  way.  Go  back  to  the  muzhik,"  says  he, 
"  earn  the  crust.  If  within  three-years'  time  thou  dost 
not  get  the  better  of  the  muzhik,  I'll  give  thee  a  bath 
in  holy  water." 

The  little  devil  was  alarmed ;  ran  back  to  earth,  be- 
gan to  cogitate  how  he  might  expiate  his  fault.  He 
thought  and  thought,  and  he  thought  out  a  scheme. 

The  little  devil  turned  himself  into  a  good  man,  and 
took  service  with  the  poor  muzhik.  And  he  advised 
the  muzhik  to  sow  corn  during  a  summer-drought,  in  a 
swamp.  The  muzhik  listened  to  the  laborer ;  sowed 
in  the  swamp.  The  other  muzhiks  had  every  thing 
burned  up  by  the  sun ;  but  the  poor  muzhik  had  dense, 
high,  full-eared  corn.  The  muzhik  had  enough  to  live 
on  till  the  next  year ;  and  even  then,  much  corn  re- 
mained. 

That  year,  the  laborer  advised  the  muzhik  on  the 
hill-side.     And  there  came  a  rainy  summer.     And  the 


206  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

people  had  sowed  their  corn,  and  sweat  over  it,  and 
the  kernels  don't  fill  out ;  but  the  muzhik  on  the  hill- 
side had  a  quantity  of  corn  ripen.  And  the  muzhik 
still  had  much  more  corn  than  he  needed.  And  the 
muzhik  knows  not  what,  to  do  with  it. 

And  the  laborer  advised  the  muzhik  to  grind  the  corn, 
and  distil  whiskey.  The  muzhik  distilled  the  whiskey  ; 
began  to  drink  himself,  and  gave  others  to  drink.  The 
little  devil  came  to  the  big  one,  and  began  to  boast 
that  he  had  earned  the  crust.  The  big  one  went  to 
investigate. 

He  came  to  the  muzhik's  ;  sees  how  the  muzhik  has 
invited  the  rich  men,  —  treated  them  all  to  whiskey. 
The  khozydika  offers  the  whiskey  to  the  guests.  As 
soon  as  any  one  made  a  move  to  depart,  she  invited  him 
to  the  table,  filled  a  glass.  The  muzhik  lost  his  temper, 
scolded  his  wife.  "  Look  you,"  says  he,  "you  devil- 
ish fool !  What  makes  you  slop  it  so  ?  you  are  wasting 
such  good  whiskey,  you  bandy-legged  [goose]  ! ' ' 

The  little  devil  poked  the  big  one  with  his  elbow. 
"Just  look!"  says  he,  and  thinks  how  now  he  will 
not  lack  for  crusts. 

The  khozydin  was  berating  his  wife :  he  himself 
began  to  pass  round  the  whiskey.  A  poor  peasant 
came  in  from  his  work.  He  came  in  without  being 
invited ;  he  sat  down  ;  he  sees  the  people  drinking 
whiskey.  As  he  was  weary,  he  also  wanted  to  have  a 
taste  of  the  whiskey.  He  sat  and  he  sat ;  he  kept 
swallowing  his  spittle,  but  the  khozyAin  does  not  offer 
any  to  him.  He  onty  muttered  to  himself,  "Why 
must  we  furnish  everybody  with  whiskey?  " 

This  pleased  the  big  devil ;  but  the  little  devil  brags, 
"  Just  wait  a  little,  and  see  what  will  come  of  it." 

The  rich  muzhiks  were  drinking :  the  khozydin  also 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  207 

drank.  They  all  began  to  fawn  on  each  other,  and 
flatter  each  other,  and  to  tell  rather  buttery  and  scan- 
dalous stories.  The  big  devil  listened  and  listened, 
and  he  commended  him  for  this.  *'If,"  says  he, 
''such  flattery  can  come  from  this  drunkenness,  then 
they  will  all  be  in  our  hands." 

''Just  wait,"  says  the  little  devil,  "  what  more  will 
come  of  it.  There  they  are  going  to  drink  one  little 
glass  more.  Now,  like  little  foxes,  they  wag  their 
tails  at  each  other ;  try  to  deceive  each  other ;  but  just 
see  how,  in  a  short  time,  they  will  be  acting  like  fierce 
wolves." 

The  muzhiks  drained  their  glasses  once  more,  and 
their  talk  became  louder  and  rougher.  In  place  of 
buttery  speeches,  they  began  to  indulge  in  abuse  :  they 
began  to  get  angry,  and  tweak  each  other's  nose. 
The  khozy^in  also  took  part  in  the  squabble.  Even 
him  they  beat  unmercifully. 

The  big  devil  looked  on,  and  praised  him  for  this 
also.     "This,"  says  he,  "  is  good." 

But  the  little  devil  says,  "  Just  wait !  See  what  more 
will  happen.  Let  them  take  a  third  drink.  Now  they 
are  as  mad  as  wolves :  but  give  them  time,  let  them 
drink  once  more  ;  they  will  instantly  act  like  hogs." 

The  muzhiks  drank  for  the  third  time.  They  began 
to  get  altogether  lazy.  They  themselves  have  no  idea 
what  they  stammer  or  shriek,  and  they  talk  all  at 
once.  They  started  to  go  home,  each  in  his  own  way, 
or  in  groups  of  two  and  three.  They  all  fall  in  the 
gutter.  The  khozydin  went  to  see  his  guests  out :  he 
fell  on  his  nose  in  a  pool ;  got  all  smeared ;  lies  there 
like  a  boar,  —  grunts. 

This  delights  the  big  devil  still  more.     "Well,"i 


208  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

says  he,  "  this  scheme  of  drunkenness  was  good.  Thou 
hast  earned  thy  crust.  Now  tell  me,"  says  he,  *'  how 
didst  thou  think  of  this  scheme  ?  Thou  must  have  put 
into  it  some  fox's  blood,  in  the  first  place ;  that  was 
what  made  the  muzhik  keen :  and  then  some  wolf's 
blood ;  that  was  what  made  him  fierce  as  a  wolf :  and 
finally,  of  course,  thou  didst  add  swine's  blood ;  that 
made  him  like  a  hog.'* 

*'  No,"  says  the  little  devil,  "I  did  nothing  of  the 
sort.  I  only  made  it  out  of  all  that  is  useless  in  corn. 
This  wild  blood  always  exists  in  it,  but  has  no  way  of 
getting  out  when  the  corn  is  properly  used.  At  first 
he  did  not  grudge  his  lost  crust;  but,  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  have  a  superfluity  of  corn,  he  began  to  scheme 
how  he  might  amuse  himself.  And  I  taught  him  the 
fun,  —  whiskey-drinking.  And  as  soon  as  he  began  to 
distil  God's  gift  for  his  fun,  the  blood  of  the  fox  and 
the  wolf  and  the  hog  began  to  show  itself.  Now  all 
he  needs,  to  be  always  a  beast,  is  to  keep  on  drinking 
whiskey." 

The  chief  of  the  devils  forgave  him  the  crust  of 
bread,  and  made  him  one  of  his  staff. 


THE  REPENTANT  SINNER. 

"  And  he  said  unto  Jesus,  Lord,  rennember  me  when  thou  comest  into 
thy  kingdom. 

And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  To  day  shall  thou  be 
with  me  in  paradise."  — Luke  xxiii.  42,  43. 

Once  there  lived  on  earth  a  man  seventy  years  old, 
and  he  had  spent  his  whole  life  in  sin.  And  this  man 
fell  ill,  and  did  not  make  confession.  And  when  death 
came,  at  the  last  hour  he  wept,  and  cried,  "  Lord,  for- 
give me  as  thou  didst  the  thief  on  the  cross."  He  had 
barely  spoken  these  words,  when  his  soul  fled.     And 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  209 

the  sinner's  soul  loved  God,  and  believed  in  his  mercy, 
and  came  to  the  doors  of  paradise. 

And  the  sinner  began  to  knock,  and  ask  admission 
to  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

And  he  heard  a  voice  from  within  thcydoors,  *' What 
manner  of  man  knocketh  at  the  doors  of  paradise? 
and  what  have  been  the  deeds  done  by  this  man  in  his 
life?'' 

And  the  voice  of  the  accuser  replied,  and  rehearsed 
all  the  sinful  deeds  of  this  man.  And  he  did  not  men- 
tion one  good  deed. 

And  the  voice  from  within  the  doors  replied,  "  Sin- 
ners cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Get 
thee  hence!  " 

And  the  man  said,  "  Lord,  I  hear  thy  voice ;  but  I 
see  not  thy  face,  and  I  know  not  thy  name." 

And  the  voice  replied,  "  I  am  Peter  the  Apostle." 

And  the  sinner  said,  "Have  pity  upon  me,  Peter 
Apostle !  Remember  human  weakness  and  God's 
mercy.  Wert  thou  not  one  of  Christ's  disciples?  and 
didst  thou  not  hear  from  his  very  lips  his  teaching? 
and  hast  thou  not  seen  the  example  of  his  life  ?  And 
remember,  when  he  was  in  sorrow,  and  his  soul  was 
cast  down,  and  thrice  he  asked  thee  to  watch  with  him 
and  pray,  and  thou  didst  sleep,  for  thy  eyes  were  heavy, 
and  thrice  he  found  thee  sleeping.  So  it  was  with 
me. 

"And  remember,  also,  how  thou  didst  promise  him 
not  to  deny  him  till  death,  and  how  thrice  thou  didst 
deny  him  when  they  took  him  before  Caiaphas.  So  it 
was  with  me. 

"  And  remember,  also,  how  the  cock  crew,  and  thou 
didst  go  out  and  weep  bitterly.  So  it  is  with  me.  It 
is  impossible  for  thee  not  to  forgive  me." 


210  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

And  the  voice  from  within  the  doors  of  paradise 
was  silent. 

And,  after  waiting,  the  sinner  began  again  to  knock, 
and  to  demand  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

And  a  second  voice  was  heard  within  the  doors  ;  and 
it  said,  "Who  is  this  man,  and  how  did  he  live  on 
earth?" 

And  the  voice  of  the  accuser  again  rehearsed  all 
the  sinner's  evil  deeds,  and  mentioned  no  good  deeds. 

And  the  voice  from  within  the  doors  replied,  "  Get 
thee  gone !  sinners  like  thee  cannot  live  with  us  in 
paradise." 

And  the  sinner  said,  "  Lord,  I  hear  thy  voice  ;  but 
I  see  not  thy  face,  and  I  know  not  thy  name." 

And  the  voice  replied,  "  I  am  David,  the  king  and 
prophet. ' ' 

And  the  sinner  did  not  despair,  did  not  depart  from 
the  doors  of  paradise,  but  began  to  say,  "  Have  mercy 
upon  me,  tsar  David,  and  remember  human  weakness 
and  God's  mercy.  God  loved  thee,  and  magnified 
thee  before  the  people.  Thou  hadst  every  thing,  —  a 
kingdom  and  glory  and  wealth,  and  wives  and  children  ; 
and  yet  thou  didst  see  from  thy  roof  a  poor  man's  wife  ; 
and  sin  came  upon  thee,  and  thou  didst  take  Uriah's 
wife,  and  thou  didst  kill  him  by  the  sword  of  the  Am- 
monites. Thou,  a  rich  man,  didst  take  the  poor  man's 
lamb,  and  kill  the  man  himself.  This  was  exactly 
what  I  did. 

"  And  remember  next  how  thou  didst  repent,  and 
say,  '  I  acknowledge  my  sin,  and  am  grieved  because 
of  my  transgressions.'  So  did  I  also.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  thee  not  to  forgive  me." 

And  the  voice  within  the  doors  was  silent. 

And  after  waiting  a  little,  yet  again  the  sinner 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  211 

knocked,  and  demanded  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

And  a  third  voice  was  heard  from  behind  the  doors ; 
and  it  said,  ''  Get  thee  gone  !  Sinners  cannot  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'* 

And  the  sinner  replied,  "  I  hear  thy  voice  ;  but  thy 
face  I  see  not,  and  thy  name  I  know  not." 

And  the  voice  replied,  "  I  am  John  the  theologian, 
the  beloved  disciple  of  Christ." 

And  the  sinner  rejoiced,  and  said,  *'  Now  I  must 
surel}'  be  forgiven :  Peter  and  David  would  admit  me 
because  they  know  human  weakness  and  God's  mercy. 
But  thou  admittest  me  because  thou  hast  much  love. 
Hast  thou  not  written,  John  the  theologian,  in  thy  book, 
that  God  is  love,  and  that  whoever  doth  not  love 
knoweth  not  God?  And  didst  thou  not  in  thy  old  age 
constantly  say  one  single  word  to  people,  —  'Brothers, 
love  one  another'?  How,  then,  canst  thou  hate  me 
and  reject  me?  Either  deny  thy  saying,  or  show  love 
unto  me,  and  let  me  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

And  the  gates  of  paradise  opened ;  and  John  re- 
ceived the  repentant  sinner,  and  let  him  come  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 


A  SEED  AS  BIG  AS  A   HEN'S  EGG. 

Some  children  once  found  in  a  cave  something  re- 
sembling a  hen's  Q^g^  with  a  groove  about  the  middle, 
and  like  a  seed.  A  passer-by  saw  the  children  playing 
with  it,  bought  it  for  a  p'yatdk,^  took  it  to  the  city,  and 
gave  it  to  the  tsar  as  a  curiosity. 

The  tsar  summoned  his  wise  men,  commanded  them 
to  decide  what  kind  of  a  thing  it  was,  —  an  egg,  or  a 

1  A  copper  piece  worth  five  kopeks. 


212  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

seed  ?  The  wise  men  cogitated,  cogitated  —  they  could 
not  give  an  answer.  This  thing  was  lying  in  the  win- 
dow ;  and  a  hen  flew  in,  began  to  peck  at  it,  and 
pecked  a  hole  in  it ;  and  all  knew  that  it  was  a  seed. 
The  wise  men  went  to  the  tsar,  and  said,  "  This  is  — 
a  rye-seed." 

The  tsar  marvelled.  He  commanded  the  wise  men 
to  find  out  where  and  when  this  seed  grew.  The  wise 
men  cogitated,  cogitated :  they  hunted  in  books  — 
they  found  no  explanation.  They  came  to  the  tsar: 
they  say,  *'  We  cannot  give  an  answer.  In  our  books, 
there  is  nothing  written  about  this :  we  must  ask  the 
muzhiks  whether  some  one  of  their  elders  has  not  heard 
tell  of  when  and  where  such  a  seed  is  sowed.'* 

The  tsar  sent,  and  commanded  an  old  stdrik  ^  of  a 
muzhik  to  be  brought  before  him.  They  discovered  an 
old  starik,  and  brought  him  to  the  tsar.  The  green, 
toothless  starik  came  in :  he  walked  with  diflSculty  on 
two  crutches. 

The  tsar  showed  him  the  seed  :  but  the  stdrik  was 
almost  blind,  as  it  were ;  he  judges  of  it,  partly  by 
looking  at  it,  partly  by  fumbling  it  in  his  hands. 

The  tsar  began  to  ask  him  questions:  ''Dost  thou 
not  know,  dy^dushka,  where  such  a  seed  grows?  Hast 
thou  never  sowed  any  such  kind  of  grain  in  thy  field  ? 
or  didst  thou  never  in  thy  life  purchase  any  such  seed?  '* 

The  stdrik  was  stupid :  he  could  barely,  barely  hear, 
barely,  barely  understand.  He  began  to  make  reply : 
"  No,"  says  he,  "I  never  sowed  any  such  grain  in  my 
field,  and  I  never  harvested  any  such,  and  I  never 
bought  any  such.  When  we  bought  grain,  all  such  seed 
was  small.  But,"  says  he,  "you  must  ask  my  bdtiush- 
ka :  maybe  he's  heard  tell  where  such  seed  grew." 

1  Old  man. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  213 

The  tsar  sent  for  the  stdrik's  father,  and  bade  him 
to  be  brought  before  him.  The  ancient  stdrik  hobbled 
in  on  one  crutch.  The  tsar  began  to  show  him  the  seed. 
The  old  man  could  still  see  with  his  eyes.  He  sees 
very  well.     The  tsar  began  to  question  him  :  — 

"  Dost  thou  not  know,  my  dear  old  man,^  where  this 
seed  can  have  grown?  Hast  thou  never  sowed  such 
grain  in  thy  field?  or  didst  thou  never  in  thy  life  pur- 
chase such  seed  anywhere?  " 

Though  the  stdrik  was  rather  hard  of  hearing,  still  he 
heard  better  than  his  son.  "  No,"  says  he,  "I  never 
sowed  such  seed  in  mj'  field,  and  I  never  harvested  any  ; 
and  I  never  bought  any,  because  in  my  day  there 
wasn't  any  money  anywhere ;  we  all  lived  on  grain ; 
and  when  it  was  necessary,  we  went  shares  with  one 
another.  I  don't  know  where  such  seed  is  grown. 
Though  our  seed  was  much  larger  and  more  productive 
than  that  of  nowadays,  still,  I  never  saw  such  as  this. 
But  I  have  heard  from  my  batiushka,  that,  in  his  day, 
corn  grew  much  higher  than  it  does  now,  and  was  fuller, 
and  had  larger  kernels.     You  must  ask  him." 

The  tsar  sent  for  this  old  man's  father.  And  they 
brought  the  grandfather  also.  They  brought  him  to 
the  tsar.  The  starik  came  before  the  tsar  without 
crutches :  he  walked  easily ;  his  eyes  were  brilliant ; 
he  heard  well,  and  spoke  understandingly. 

The  tsar  showed  the  seed  to  the  old  man.  The  old 
man  looked  at  it.  The  old  man  turned  it  over  and 
over.  *'  It  is  long,"  says  he,  "  since  I  have  seen  such 
a  kernel."  The  grandfather  bit  off  a  piece  :  he  wanted 
a  little  more. 

"It's  the  very  thing,"  says  he. 

**  Tell  me,  dyedushka,  where  and  when  this  kind  of 

1  Starichok. 


214  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

seed  grows  ?  Didst  thou  never  sow  such  grain  in  thy 
field?  Or  didst  thou  never  in  thy  life  buy  any  such 
among  people  ?  '  * 

And  the  stdrik  said,  ''  Such  grain  as  this  used  to 
grow  everywhere  in  my  day.  On  such  grain  as  this, 
I  have  lived  all  my  life,"  says  he,  ^'  and  fed  vay  peo- 
ple. This  seed  I  have  sowed  and  reaped,  and  had 
ground.*' 

And  the  tsar  asked,  saying,  ''  Tell  me,  dy^dushka, 
didst  thou  buy  such  seed  anywhere  ?  or  didst  thou  sow 
itin  thy  field?" 

The  stdrik  laughed. 

''  In  my  time,"  says  he,  *'  no  one  bad  ever  conceived 
such  a  sin  as  to  buy  and  sell  grain.  And  they  did  not 
know  about  money.  There  was  abundance  of  bread 
for  all." 

And  the  tsar  asked,  saying,  ''  Tell  me,  dy^dushka, 
when  didst  thou  sow  such  grain,  and  where  was  thy 
field?" 

And  the  grandfather  said,  '*  My  field  was  —  God's 
earth.  Wherever  there  was  tillage,  there  was  my  field. 
The  earth  was  free.  There  was  no  such  thing  as 
private  ownership.  They  only  laid  claim  to  their 
work." 

*' Tell  me,"  says  the  tsar,  —  'Hell  me  two  things' 
more  :  one  thing.  Why  did  such  seed  used  to  spring  up, 
and  now  doesn't?  And  the  second  thing,  Why  does 
thy  grandson  walk  on  two  crutches,  and  thy  son  on  one 
crutch,  but  here  thou  goest  with  perfect  ease  —  and  thy 
eyes  are  bright,  and  thy  teeth  strong,  and  thy  speech 
plain  and  clear?  Tell  me,  dyedushka,  why  these  things 
are  so?  " 

And  the  stdrik  said,  "  These  two  things  both  came 
about  because  men  have  ceased  to  live  by  their  own 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  215 

work  —  and  thej  have  begun  to  hanker  after  foreign 
things.  We  did  not  live  so  in  old  times  :  in  old  times 
we  lived  for  God.  We  had  our  own,  and  did  not  lust 
after  others'." 


DOES  A  MAN  NEED  MUCH  LAND? 


An  elder  sister  came  from  the  city,  to  visit  her  sister 
in  the  country.  The  elder  was  a  city  merchant's  wife  ; 
the  younger,  a  country  muzhik's.  The  two  sisters  are 
tea-drinking  and  talking.  The  older  sister  began  to 
boast  —  to  praise  up  her  life  in  the  city :  how  she  lives 
in  a  large  and  elegant  mansion,  and  has  her  horses,  and 
how  she  dresses  her  children,  and  what  rich  things  she 
has  to  eat  and  drink,  and  how  she  goes  to  drive,  and 
to  walk,  and  to  the  theatre. 

The  younger  sister  felt  affronted,  and  began  to  de- 
preciate the  life  of  a  merchant,  and  to  set  forth  the 
advantages  of  her  own,  —  that  of  the  peasant. 

"  I  wouldn't  exchange  my  life  for  yours,"  sa3's  she. 
"  Granted  that  we  live  coarsely,  still  we  don't  know 
what  fear  is.  You  live  more  elegantl}^ ;  but  you  have 
to  sell  a  great  deal,  else  you  find  yourselves  entirely 
sold.  And  the  proverb  runs,  '  Loss  is  Gain's  bigger 
brother.'  It  also  happens,  to-day  you're  rich,  but 
to-morrow  you're  a  beggar.^  But  our  muzhiks'  affairs 
are  more  reliable  ;  the  muzhik's  life  is  meagre,  but  long ; 
we  may  not  be  rich,  but  we  have  enough." 

The  elder  sister  began  to  say,  "  Enough,  —  I  should 
think  so !  like  pigs  and  calves  !  No  fine  dresses,  no 
good  society.  How  your  khozyai'n  works  !  how  you 
live  in  the  dung-hill !  and  so  you  will  die,  and  it  will 
be  the  same  thing  with  your  children." 

»  Literally,  find  thyself  under  the  windows. 


216  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

"Indeed,"^  saj^s  the  younger,  "  our  affairs  are  all 
right.  We  live  well.  We  truckle  to  no  one,  we  stand  in 
fear  of  no  one.  But  you  in  the  city  all  live  in  the  midst 
of  temptations  :  to-day  it's  all  right ;  but  to-morrow  up 
comes  some  improper  person,  I  fear,  to  tempt  you,  and 
tempts  your  khozyain  either  to  cards,  or  to  wine,  or  to 
women.     And  every  thing  goes  to  ruin.     Isn't  it  so?  " 

Pakhom,  the  khozyain,  was  listening  on  the  oven, 
as  the  babas  disputed. 

"  That's  true,"  says  he,  "  the  veritable  truth."  As 
our  brother  from  childhood  had  been  turning  up  the 
matiushka  earth,  so  folly  [stays  in]  his  head,  and  does 
not  depart.  His  one  trouble  is,  —  so  little  land.  "  If 
I  had  only  as  much  land  as  I  wanted,  I  shouldn't  be 
afraid  of  any  one  —  even  of  the  Devil.'* 

The  babas  drank  their  tea,  talked  about  clothes,  put 
away  the  dishes,  went  to  bed. 

But  the  Devil  was  sitting  behind  the  oven  :  he  heard 
every  thing.  He  was  delighted  because  the  peasant- 
woman  induced  her  husband  to  boast  with  her  :  he  had 
boasted,  that,  if  he  had  land  enough,  the  Devil  could 
not  get  him ! 

"All  right,"  he  thinks:  ''thou  and  I'll  have  to 
fight  it  out.  I  will  give  thee  a  lot  of  laud.  I'll  get 
thee  through  the  land." 

II. 

There  lived  next  the  muzhiks  a  petty  land-owner.^ 
She  had  one  hundred  and  twenty  desyAtins  ^  of  land. 
And  she  used  to  live  peaceably  with  the  muzhiks  —  did 
not  affront  them.  But  a  retired  soldier  engaged  him- 
self as  her  overseer,^  and  he  began  to  persecute  the 

»  A  chto-eh.  2  Bdruinka,  gracious  lady. 

8  Three  hundred  and  twenty -four  acres.      *  Prikdshchik. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  217 

muzhiks  with  fines.  No  matter  how  careful  Pakhom 
was,  either  his  horse  would  trample  down  the  oats,  or 
his  cow  would  wander  into  the  garden,  or  his  calves 
would  get  into  the  meadows  :  there  was  a  fine  for  every 
thing. 

Pakhom  pays  the  fines,  and  scolds  and  beats  the 
domestics.  And  during  the  summer  Pakhom  falls  into 
many  a  sin  on  account  of  this  prikashchik.  And  still 
he  was  glad  that  he  had  cattle  in  his  dvor :  though  he 
was  hard  up  for  fodder,  he  was  in  no  apprehension. 

During  the  winter,  the  rumor  spread  that  the 
baruina  was  going  to  sell  her  land,  and  her  dvornik 
had  made  arrangements  to  buy  it  at  a  great  price. 

The  muzhiks  heard  it,  and  groaned. 

"Now,"  think  the}',  "the  land  will  belong  to  the 
dvornik :  he  will  make  us  pay  worse  fines  than  the 
baruina  did.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  live  without 
this  land.     All  of  us  around  here  live  on  it." 

The  muzhiks  went  to  the  baruina  in  a  body,  began 
to  beg  her  not  to  sell  the  land  to  the  dvornik,  but  to 
let  them  have  it.     They  promised  to  pay  a  higher  price. 

The  baruina  agreed.  The  muzhiks  tried  to  arrange 
as  a  miV,  to  buy  all  the  land.  Once,  twice,  they 
collected  in  meeting,  but  there  was  a  hitch  in  affairs. 
The  Devil  puts  them  at  variance :  they  are  utterly  un- 
able to  come  to  any  agreement. 

And  the  muzhiks  determined  to  purchase  the  land 
individually,  according  to  the  ability  of  each.  And 
the  baruina  agreed  to  this  also. 

Pakhom  heard  that  a  neighbor  had  bought  twenty 
desydtins  ^  from  the  baruina,  and  that  she  had  given 
him  a  year  in  which  to  pay  her  half  of  the  money. 
Pakhom  was  envious.     "They  will  buy  all  the  laud," 

1  Fifty-four  acres. 


218  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

he  saj's  to  himself,  "and  I  shall  be  behind  them/* 
He  began  to  reason  with  his  wife. 

"The  people  are  buying  it  up,"  says  he.  "We 
must  bu3'  ten  desydtins  too.  It's  impossible  to  live 
this  way :  the  prikdshchik  was  eating  us  up  with 
fines." 

They  cogitated  how  to  buy  it.  They  had  laid  up  a 
hundred  rubles ;  then  they  sold  a  colt,  and  half  their 
bees;  and  they  apprenticed  their  son,  and  ihcy  got 
some  more  from  their  sister-in-law  ;  and  thus  they  col- 
lected half  of  the  money. 

Pakhom  gathered  up  the  money,  selected  fifteen 
des3'dtins  of  land  with  wood-land  on  it,  and  went  to 
the  baruina  to  make  the  purchase.  He  bought  fifteen 
desydtins,  struck  a  bargain,  and  paid  down  the  earnest- 
money.  They  went  to  the  city,  ratified  the  purchase; 
he  paid  down  half  of  the  money  ;  the  remainder  he  binds 
himself  to  pay  in  two  years. 

And  Pakhom  now  had  his  land.  Pakhom  took  seed, 
and  sowed  the  land  that  he  had  bought.  In  a  single 
year  he  paid  up  the  debt  to  the  baruina  and  his  brother- 
in-law.  And  Pakhom  became  a  proprietor.^  He 
ploughed  all  his  land,  and  sowed  it ;  he  made  hay  on 
his  own  land ;  he  cut  stakes  on  his  own  land,  and  on 
his  own  land  he  pastured  cattle.  Pakhom  rides  out 
over  his  wide  fields  to  plough,  or  he  takes  note  of  his 
crops,  or  he  gazes  at  his  meadows.  And  yet  he  is  not 
happy.  The  grass  seems  to  him  to  be  wasted,  and  the 
flowers  flowering  in  it  seem  entirely  different.  Formerly 
he  used  to  ride  over  this  land,  —  the  land  as  land ;  but 
now  the  land  began  to  be  absolutely  peculiar. 

*  Pomyeshchik. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  219 


III. 

Thus  lives  Pakhom,  and  rejoices.  All  would  have 
been  good,  only  the  muzhiks  began  to  trespass  on  his 
grain  and  meadows.  He  begged  them  to  refrain  :  they 
do  not  stop  it.  Now  the  cow-boys  let  the  cows  into 
the  meadow :  now  the  horses  escape  from  the  night- 
guard  into  his  corn-field. 

And  Pakhom  drove  them  out,  and  forgave  it,  and 
never  went  to  law :  then  he  got  tired  of  it,  and  tried 
going  to  the  volost-court.'^  And  he  knows  that  the 
muzhiks  do  it  from  carelessness,  and  not  from  malice ; 
but  he  thinks,  *'  It  is  impossible  to  overlook  it,  other- 
wise they'll  always  be  pasturing  their  cattle  there. 
We  must  teach  them  a  lesson." 

He  thus  taught  them  in  court  once  ;  he  taught  them 
twice  :  first  one  was  fined,  then  another.  The  muzhiks, 
Pakhom's  neighbors,  began  to  harbor  spite  against  him. 
Once  more  they  began  to  trespass,  and  this  time  on 
purpose.  Some  one  got  into  his  wood-land  by  night. 
They  cut  down  a  dozen  of  his  lindens  for  basts.  Pa- 
khom went  to  his  grove,  saw  [what  had  been  done], 
turns  pale.  Some  one  had  been  there :  the  linden- 
branches  lie  scattered  about,  the  stumps  stand  out. 
Out  of  the  clump  he  had  cut  down  the  last,  the  rascal 
had  cleaned  it  all  out :  only  one  was  left  standing. 

Pakhom  fell  into  a  rage.  *'  Akh  !  "  thinks  he,  "  if  I 
only  knew  who  did  that,  I  would  give  him  a  kneading." 

He  thought,  he  thought,  "  Who  [could  it  be]  ?  " 

''  No  one  more  likely,"  thinks  he,  "  than  Semyon." 

He  went  to  Semka's  dvor ;  he  found  nothing :  the}'^ 
only  exchanged  some  quarrelsome  words.  And  Pa- 
khom felt  still  more  certain  that  Semyon  had  done  it. 

>  The  voloet  is  a  district  iucluding  several  villageB, 


220  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

He  entered  a  complaint.  They  took  it  into  court. 
They  had  suit  after  suit.  The  muzhik  was  acquitted  : 
no  proof.  Pakhom  was  still  more  affronted :  he  got 
incensed  at  the  starshind  and  at  the  judges. 

''You,"  sa3'S  he,  "are  on  the  side  of  a  pack  of 
thieves.  If  you  were  decent  men,  you  wouldn't  acquit 
thieves.'* 

Pakhom  quarrelled,  both  with  the  judges  and  with 
his  neighbors.  They  began  even  to  threaten  him  with 
the  ''red  rooster."^  Pakhom  had  come  to  live  on  a 
broader  scale  on  his  farm,  but  with  more  constraint 
in  the  commune. 

And  about  this  time  the  rumor  spread,  that  the  peo- 
ple were  going  to  new  places.  And  Pakhom  thinks, 
' '  There  is  no  reason  for  me  to  go  from  my  land  ;  but 
If  any  of  our  [neighbors]  should  go,  it  would  enable 
me  to  branch  out  more.  I  would  take  their  land  for 
myself ;  I  would  get  it  around  here :  life  would  be 
much  better,  for  now  it  is  too  confined." 

Pakhom  is  sitting  at  home  one  time:  a  wandering, 
muzhik  comes  along.  They  let  the  muzhik  have  a 
night's  lodging ;  they  give  him  something  to  eat ;  the}' 
enter  into  conversation:  "Whither,  please,  is  God 
taking  you  ?  ' ' 

The  muzhik  says  that  he  is  on  his  way  down  from 
the  Volga,  where  he  had  been  at  work.  The  muzhik 
relates,  a  word  at  a  time,  how  the  people  had  gone 
colonizing  there.  He  relates  how  thej'  settled  there, 
made  a  community,  and  gave  each  soul  ten  desydtins 
of  land.  "But  the  land  is  such,"  sa3-s  he,  "that 
they  sowed  rye.  Such  stalks  —  the  horses  never  saw 
the  like  —  so  thick  !  five  handfuls  made  a  sheaf.  One 
muzhik,"  says  he,  "was  perfectly  poor  —  came  with 

*  The  picturesque  Russian  metaphor  for  a  conflagration. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  221 

his  hands  alone  —  and  now  he  has  six  horses  and  two 
cows." 

Pakhom's  heart  burned  within  him :  he  thinks, 
"  Why  remain  here  in  straitened  circumstances,  when 
it  is  possible  to  live  well?  I  will  sell  my  land  and  dvor 
here  ;  then  with  the  money  that  I  get,  I  will  start  anew, 
and  have  a  complete  establishment.  But  here  in  these 
narrow  quarters  —  it's  a  sin.  Only  I  must  find  out 
for  myself." 

He  packed  up  for  a  year;  started.  From  Samara 
he  sailed  down  the  Volga- in  a  steamboat,  then  he  went 
on  foot  four  hundred  versts.  He  reached  the  place.  It 
was  just  so.  The  muzhiks  live  on  a  generous  scale, ^ 
on  farms  of  ten  desydtins  each,  and  they  are  glad  of 
accessions  to  tlieir  society.  "And  if  any  one  has  a 
little  money,  you  can  buy  for  three  rubles  as  much  of 
the  ver}'  best  land  as  you  wish,  besides  his  allotment. 
You  can  buy  just  as  much  as  you  wish." 

Pakhom  made  his  investigations ;  in  the  autumn  re- 
turned home,  began  to  sell  out  every  thing.  He  sold 
his  land  to  advantage,  sold  his  dvor,  sold  all  his  cattle, 
withdrew  his  name  from  the  Community,  waited  till 
spring,  and  moved  with  his  family  to  the  new  place. 

IV. 
Pakhom  came  with  his  family  to  the  new  place,  en- 
rolled himself  in  a  large  village.  He  treated  the 
elders,^  arranged  all  the  pai)ers.  Pakhom  was  ac- 
cepted :  he  was  allotted,  as  for  five  persons,  fifty  des- 
ydtins^ of  the  land  to  be  distributed,  located  in  different 
fields,  all  except  the  pasturage.  Pakhom  settled  down. 
He  got  cattle.     He  had  three  times  as  much  land  as 

*  Proslornn,  roomily.  *  Sturiki. 

8  Que  hundred  and  thirty-five  acres. 


222  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

he  had  had  before,  and  the  land  was  fertile.  Life  was 
tenfold  better  than  what  it  had  been  in  the  old  time ; 
had  all  the  arable  land  and  fodder  that  he  needed. 
Keep  as  many  cattle  as  you  like. 

At  first,  while  he  was  getting  settled,  and  putting  his 
house  in  order,  Pakhom  was  well  pleased,  got  to  feel 
at  home  ;  then  it  seemed  rather  narrow  quarters. 

The  first  year  Pakhom  sowed  wheat  on  one  allotment : 
it  came  up  well.  He  was  anxious  to  sow  wheat ;  but 
he  had  little  land  for  the  purpose,  and  such  as  he  has 
is  of  no  good.  Wheat  is  sowed  there  on  grass  or 
fallow  land.  They  sow  it  one  year,  two  years,  and  let 
it  lie  fallow  till  the  grass  comes  up  again.  And  in 
such  land,  there  are  man}'  sportsmen ;  but  they  don't 
bag  game  on  all. 

Quarrels  also  arose ;  one  was  richer  than  another  : 
they  all  wanted  to  sow,  but  the  poorer  ones  had  to 
resort  to  merchants  for  loans. 

Pakhom  was  anxious  to  sow  as  much  as  possible. 
The  next  year  he  went  to  a  merchant :  he  hired  land 
for  a  year.  He  sowed  more  :  it  came  up  well.  It  was 
a  long  way  from  the  village :  he  had  to  go  fifteen 
versts.  He  sees  how  muzhik-merchants  live  in  fine 
mansions,  and  are  rich.  "That's  the  thing,"  thinks 
Pakhom.  *'  If  only  I  could  buy  the  land,  then  I 
would  have  a  mansion.     It  would  all  be  in  one  piece." 

And  Pakhom  began  to  cogitate  how  he  might  get  a 
perpetual  title. 

Thus  Pakhom  lived  three  years.  He  hired  land, 
sowed  wheat.  The  years  were  good  ones,  and  the 
wheat  grew  well,  and  a  store  of  money  was  laid  away. 

As  life  passed,  it  became  every  year  irksome  to 
Pakhom  to  buy  land  with  the  men,  to  waste  time  over 
it.      Where   an   estate   is   pretty   good,   the  muzhiks 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  223 

instantly  fly  to  it,  divide  it  all  up.  He  was  alwa3's  too 
late  to  buy  cheap,  and  he  had  nothing  to  sow  on.  But 
in  the  third  year,  he  bought,  on  shares  with  a  mer- 
chant, a  pasturage  of  the  muzhiks ;  and  they  had 
already  ploughed  it.  The  muzhiks  had  been  at  law 
about  it,  and  so  the  work  was  lost.  *'  If  I  owned  the 
land,"  he  thinks,  "I  should  not  truckle  to  any  one; 
and  it  would  not  be  a  sin." 

And  Pakhom  began  to  inquire  where  he  might  buy 
land  in  perpetuity.  And  he  struck  upon  a  muzhik. 
The  muzhik  had  for  sale  five  hundred  desyatins ;  ^ 
and,  as  he  was  anxious  to  get  rid  of  it,  he  sells  at  a 
bargain. 

Pakhom  began  to  dicker  with  him.  He  argues, 
argues.  He  agrees  to  sell  for  fifteen  hundred  rubles, 
half  the  money  on  mortgage.  They  had  already  come 
to  an  agreement,  when  a  pedler  happens  along,  and 
asks  Pakhom  to  let  him  have  a  little  something  to  eat. 

They  drank  a  cup  of  tea ;  they  entered  into  conver- 
sation. 

The  pedler  relates  that  he  is  on  his  way  from  the 
distant  Bashkirs.  "There,"  says  he,  "I  bought  of 
the  Bashkirs  fifteen  hundred  desydtins  of  land ;  and  I 
had  to  pay  only  a  thousand  rubles." 

Pakhom  began  to  ask  questions.  The  pedler  told 
him  [the  whole  story]. 

''  All  I  did,"  saj^s  he,  "  was  to  satisfy  the  old  men. 
I  distributed  some  dressing-gowns  and  carpets,  worth 
a  hundred  rubles,  besides  a  chest  of  tea;  and  I  gave 
a  little  wine  to  those  who  drank.  And  I  got  it  for 
twenty  kopeks  a  desydtin."  —  He  exhibited  the  title- 
deed. —  "The  land,"  says  he,  "is  by  a  little  river, 
and  the  steppe  is  all  covered  with  grass." 

1  Thirteen  hundred  and  fifty  acres. 


224  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

Pakhom  began  to  ask  more  questions,  —  How  and 
who? 

"The  land,"  says  the  merchant,  —  "  you  wouldn't 
go  round  it  in  a  year,  —  it's  all  Bashkirian.  And  the 
people  are  as  stupid  as  rams.  You  could  almost  get 
it  for  nothing." 

"Now,"  thinks  Pakhom,  "  why  should  I  spend  my 
thousand  rubles  for  five  hundred  desydtins,  and  hang 
a  burden  of  debt  around  my  neck  beside?  But  there, 
how  much  I  could  get  for  a  thousand  rubles !  " 

V. 

Pakhom  asked  how  he  went ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  said 
good-by  to  the  pedler,  he  determined  to  go.  He  left 
his  house  in  his  wife's  care,  took  his  man,  and  started. 
When  they  reached  the  city,  he  bought  a  chest  of  tea, 
gifts,  wine,  just  as  the  merchant  said.  They  trav- 
elled, travelled:  they  travelled  five  hundred  versts^ 
away.  On  the  seventh  da}'  they  came  to  the  range 
of  the  Bashkirs.  It  was  all  just  as  the  merchant  had 
said.  They  all  live  in  the  steppe,  along  a  little  river, 
in  felt-covered  kibltki.  They  themselves  do  not 
plough :  they  eat  no  bread.  And  their  cattle  graze 
along  the  steppe,  and  their  horses  are  in  droves.  Be- 
hind the  kibitki  the  colts  are  tied,  and  twice  a  day 
they  bring  the  mares  to  them.  The}'  milk  the  mares, 
and  make  kumys  out  of  the  milk.  The  Imbas  churn 
the  kumys,  and  make  cheese  ;  and  the  muzhiks  only 
know  how  to  drink  kumj's  and  tea,  to  eat  mutton,  and 
play  on  the  dudki.^  All  are  polite,  jolly :  they  keep 
festival  all  summer.  The  people  are  very  dark,  and 
can't  speak  Russian,  but  are  affable. 

As  soon  as  the  Bashkirs  saw  Pakhom,  they  came 

1  Three  hundred  and  thirty  milea.  *  Reed-pipes. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  225 

forth  from  their  kibitki :  they  surrounded  their  guest.. 
The  interpreter  made  his  acquaintance.  Pakhom  told 
him  that  he  had  come  to  see  about  land.  The  Bashkirs 
were  delighted,  took  him  to  a  fine  kibltka,  spread  rugs, 
gave  him  a  down-cushion  to  sit  on,  sat  round  him, 
began  to  treat  him  to  tea,  kumys.  They  slaughtered 
a  ram,  and  gave  him  mutton. 

Pakhom  fetched  from  his  tarantds  his  gifts,  began 
to  distribute  them  among  the  Bashkirs. 

Pakhom  gave  the  Bashkirs  his  gifts,  and  divided  the 
tea.  The  Bashkirs  were  overjoyed.  They  jabbered, 
jabbered  together,  then  commanded  the  interpreter  to 
speak. 

''  They  bid  me  tell  thee,"  says  the  interpreter, 
*'that  they  have  taken  a  fancy  to  thee;  and  that  we 
have  a  custom  of  doing  every  thing  possible  to  gratify 
a  guest,  and  repay  him  for  his  gifts.  Thou  hast  given 
to  us.  Now  tell  what  thou  wis  best  among  our  posses- 
sions, in  order  that  we  may  give  it  thee." 

"Above  all  else  that  you  have,"  says  Pakhom,  ''I 
would  like  some  of  your  land.  In  my  country," 
says  he,  "  there  is  a  scarcity  of  land.  The  land  is 
cultivated  to  death.  But  3'ou  have  much  land,  and 
good  land.     I  never  saw  the  like." 

The  interpreter  translated  for  him.  The  Bashkirs 
talked,  talked.  Pakhom  understands  not  what  they 
say  ;  but  he  sees  that  they  are  good-natured,  that  they 
are  talking  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  laughing.  Then 
they  relapsed  into  silence,  look  at  Pakhom  ;  and  the 
interpreter  says,  — 

*'  They  bid  me  tell  thee,  that,  in  return  for  thy  kind- 
ness, they  are  happy  to  give  thee  as  much  land  as  thou 
wisliest.    Only  show  us  thy  hand  —  it  shall  be  thine." 

They  still  were  talkmg,  and  began  to  dispute  angrily. 


226  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

And  Pakhom  asked  what  they  were  quarrelling  aoout. 
And  the  interpreter  replied,  "  Some  say  that  they 
ought  to  ask  the  starshina,  and  that  without  his  con- 
sent it  is  impossible.  And  others  say  that  it  can  be 
done  without  the  chief." 

VI.. 

The  Bashkirs  are  quarrelling :  suddenly  a  man  comes 
in  a  fox-skin  shapka. 

They  become  silent,  and  all  stood  up.  And  the  in- 
terpreter says,  "This  is  the  starshind  himself." 

Instantly  Pakhom  got  out  his  best  dressing-gown, 
and  gave  it  to  the  starshind,  together  with  five  pounds 
of  tea. 

The  starshind  accepted  it,  and  sat  down  in  the  chief 
place.  And  immediately  the  Bashkirs  began  to  tell 
him  all  about  it. 

The  starshind  listened,  listened  ;  nodded  his  head,  in 
sign  of  silence  for  all,  and  began  to  speak  to  Pakhom 
in  Russian.^ 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  it  can  be  done.  Take  it  when 
you  please.     Plenty  of  land." 

''  I  shall  get  as  much  as  I  want,"  thinks  Pakhom. 
'*  I  must  secure  it  right  away,  else  they'll  say  it's  mine, 
and  then  take  it  away.'* 

"1  thank  you,"  says  he,  ''for  your  kind  words. 
I  have  seen  that  you  have  much  land,  and  I  need  not 
very  much.  Only  you  must  let  me  know  what  shall 
be  mine.  As  soon  as  possible  you  must  have  it 
measured  off  and  secured  to  me.  And  it  must  be  as 
real  estate.  You  good  people  make  the  grant,  but  the 
time  may  come  when  your  children  will  take  it  away." 

"You  are  right,"  says  the  starshind:  "we  must 
secure  it." 

»  PoRuaski. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  227 

Pakhom  began  to  speak :  "  I  have  heard  that  a  mer- 
chant was  here  with  you.  You  also  gave  him  land, 
and  struck  a  bargain.    I  should  like  to  do  the  same." 

The  starshiua  understood  perfectly. 

''This  can  all  be  done,"  says  he.  "We  have  a 
clerk ;  and  we  will  go  to  the  city,  and  will  all  put  on 
our  seals." 

*'  And  the  price  will  be,  how  much?  "  asks  Pakhom. 

*'  We  have  one  price  :  one  thousand  rubles^  a  (Vyen.'* 

Pakhom  did  not  understand.  "  What  is  this  meas- 
ure, the  d'y^n?    How  many  desy^tins  are  there  in  it?" 

"We  can't  reckon  it,"  says  he.  "But  we  sell  it 
bj'  the  d'y^n  :  ^  all  that  3'ou  can  go  round  in  a  day,  — 
that  is  yours ;  and  the  price  of  a  d'y^n  is  one  thousand 
rubles." 

Pakhom  was  astonished:  "Look  here,"  says  he. 
"What  I  can  go  round  in  a  day  is  a  good  deal  of 
land!" 

The  starshind  laughed.  "  It's  all  yours,"  says  he. 
"Only  one  stipulation  :  if  you  don't  come  back  within 
the  day  to  the  place  from  which  you  start,  your  money 
is  lost." 

"  But  how,"  says  Pakhom,  "  can  I  mark  when  I  am 
going?" 

"  Well,  we'll  stand  on  the  place  where  it  pleases  you  ; 
we  will  be  standing  there :  and  you  shall  go  and  draw 
the  circle,  and  take  with  j^ou  a  hoe,  and  make  a  mark 
wherever  you  please ;  at  the  edges  dig  a  little  hole,  put 
some  turf  in  it :  and  we  will  go  over  it,  from  hole  to 
hole,  with  the  plough.  Take  whatever  you  wish  for  a 
circuit,  only  at  sunset  you  must  be  back  at  that  place 
from  which  you  set  out.  All  that  you  encircle  is 
yours. '  * 

1  Eight  hundred  and  sisty  dollars.  *  Day. 


228  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

Pakliom  was  delighted.  They  agreed  to  go  out  all 
together.  The}'  talked  it  over,  drank  still  more  kumjs, 
ate  the  mutton,  drank  some  more  tea.  It  approached 
nightfall.  The  Bashkirs  arranged  for  Pakhom  to  sleep 
in  a  down-bed,  and  they  separated.  They  agreed  to 
come  together  at  sunrise  the  next  day,  at  the  sound  of 
the  gun-shot. 

VII. 

Pakhom  lies  in  his  down-bed  ;  and  there  is  no  sleep- 
ing for  him,  all  on  account  of  thinking  of  his  land. 

''  I  will  go  over  the  whole  prairie.  I  can  go  over 
fifty  versts  in  one  day.  A  day  now  is  worth  a  year. 
There'll  be  a  good  deal  of  land  m  a  circle  of  fifty 
versts.  I  will  sell  off  the  worst  parts,  or  let  it  to  the 
muzhiks ;  and  I  will  pick  out  what  I  like,  and  I  will 
settle  on  it.  I  will  have  a  two-ox  plough,  and  I 
will  take  two  men  as  laborers.  I  will  plough  in 
fifty  desyatins,  and  I  will  pasture  my  cattle  on  the 
rest. ' ' 

Pakhom  did  not  get  a  wink  of  sleep  all  night.  Just 
before  dawn  he  dropped  into  a  doze.  He  seems  to  see 
himself  lying  in  this  very  same  kibitka,  and  listen- 
ing to  somebod}'  cackling  outside.  And  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  wanted  to  see  what  was  the  fun ;  and  he 
got  up,  went  out  of  the  kibitka,  and  lo !  that  very 
same  Bashkirian  starshind  is  sitting  in  front  of  the 
kibitka,  and  is  holding  his  sides,  and  roaring  and  cackr 
ling  about  something. 

He  went  out,  and  asked,  "What  are  you  laughing 
at?"  And  he  sees  that  it  is  no  longer  the  starshind 
of  the  Bashkirs,  but  the  pedler  who  had  come  to  him 
and  told  him  about  the  land. 

And  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  it  was  the  pedler,  he 
asked,  "  Have  you  been  here  long?  '* 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  229 

And  then  it  was  no  longer  the  pedler,  but  that 
muzhik  who  had  come  down  the  Volga  so  long  ago. 

And  Pakhom  sees  that  it  isn't  the  muzhik  either,  but 
the  Devil  himself,  with  horns  and  hoofs,  sitting  and 
laughing ;  and  before  him  is  lying  a  man  barefooted, 
in  shirt  and  drawers.  And  Pakhom  looked  more  at- 
tentively to  find  out  who  the  man  was. 

And  he  sees  that  the  dead  man  is  none  other  than  — 
himself !     Pakhom  was  frightened,  and  woke  up. 

He  woke  up. 

''What  was  I  dreaming  about?"  he  asks  himself. 
He  looks  around,  he  peers  out  of  the  closed  door: 
it  was  already  getting  light,  day  was  beginning  to 
dawn. 

*-'  The  people  must  be  getting  up,"  he  thinks  :  "  it's 
time  to  start.'* 

Pakhom  arose,  aroused  his  man  in  the  ta^ntds,  told 
him  to  harness  up,  and  then  went  to  arouse  the  Bash- 
kirs. 

''Time,"  savs  he,  "to  go  out  on  the  steppe,  to 
measure  it  off." 

The  Bashkirs  got  up,  all  collected  :  and  the  starshind 
came  forth.  The  Bashkirs  again  began  by  drinking 
kumys  :  they  wished  Pakhom  to  treat  them  to  tea,  but 
he  was  not  inclined  to  delay. 

"  If  we  go- — time  to  go  now,"  sa3's  he. 

VIII. 
The  Bashkirs  made  ready  ;  some  were  on  horseback, 
some  in  carts ;  ^  they  started.  And  Pakhom  rode 
with  his  man  in  their  tarantdsika,  and  took  with  him 
a  hoe.  They  rode  out  into  the  steppe :  the  dawn  was 
beginning.      They   reached    a    mound  —  shikhan    in 

1  Tarantdsui. 


230  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

Bashkirian.  They  descended  from  tlieir  carts,  dis- 
mouDted  from  their  horses,  collected  in  a  crowd.  The 
starshina  came  to  Pakhom,  pointed  with  his  hand. 

"Here,"  says  he,  "all  is  ours,  as  far  as  you  can 
see.     Take  what  you  desire." 

Pakhom 's  eyes  burn.  The  whole  region  is  grassy, 
level  as  the  palm  of  your  hand,  black  as  a  pot ;  and 
where  there  was  a  hollow,  it  was  filled  with  grass  as 
high  as  one's  breast. 

The  starshind  took  off  his  fox-skin  cap,^  laid  it  on 
the  ground. 

"Here,"  says  he,  "  is  the  spot.  Start  from  here, 
come  back  here.  All  that  you  go  round  shall  be 
yours." 

Pakhom  took  out  his  money,  laid  it  in  the  shapka ; 
took  off  his  kaftan,  stood  in  his  blouse^  alone  ;  girded 
himself  around  the  belly  with  his  sash,  pulled  it 
tighter ;  hung  round  his  neck  a  little  bag  with  bread, 
put  a  little  flask  with  water  in  his  belt,  tightened  his 
leg- wrappers,  took  the  hoe  from  his  man,  got  ready 
to  start. 

He  pondered  and  pondered  on  which  side  to  take  it : 
it  was  good  everywhere. 

He  thinks,  "  It's  all  one  :  I  will  go  toward  the  sun- 
rise." 

He  turned  his  face  toward  the  sun ;  starts,  waits  till 
it  rises  above  the  horizon. 

He  thinks,  "  I  must  not  waste  any  time.  It's  cool, 
and  easier  to  walk." 

As  soon  as  the  sunlight  gushed  out  over  the  hori- 
zon, he  threw  his  hoe  over  his  shoulder,  and  started 
out  on  the  steppe. 

Pakhom  proceeded  neither  slow  nor  fast.     He  went 

1  Shapka.  2  Poddyovka,  a  sort  of  half  kaftaa. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  231 

about  a  verst :  ^  he  halted,  he  dug  a  little  pit,  piled 
the  turf  in  it,  so  that  it  might  attract  attention. 

He  went  farther.  As  he  went  on,  he  quickened  his 
pace.     As  he  kept  going  on,  he  dug  other  little  pits. 

Pakhom  looked  around.  The  shikhan  was  still  in 
sight  in  the  sun,  and  the  people  are  standing  on  it :  the 
tires  on  the  tarantas- wheels  glisten.  Pakhom  conjec- 
tures that  he  has  been  five  versts.  He  began  to  get 
warm  :  he  took  off  his  blouse,  threw  it  over  his  shoulder, 
went  on.  It  grew  hot.  He  looked  at  the  sun.^  It 
was  already  breakfast-time. 

**One  stage  over,"  thinks  Pakhom,  "and  four  of 
them  make  a  day  :  it's  too  early  to  turn  round.  Only 
let  me  take  off  my  boots." 

He  sat  down  :  he  took  off  his  boots,  put  them  in  his 
belt,  went  on.  It  was  easy  walking.  He  thinks, 
"  Let  me  go  five  versts  farther,  then  I  am  going  to 
swing  round  to  the  left.  This  place  is  very  good : 
it's  too  bad  to  give  it  up." 

The  farther  he  went,  the  better  it  became.  He  still 
went  straight  ahead.  He  looked  round  —  the  shikhan 
was  now  scarcely  visible ;  and  the  people,  like  little 
ants,  make  a  black  spot  on  it ;  and  something  barely 
glistens. 

"  Well,"  thinks  Pakhom,  "  I  have  enough  in  this 
direction  :  I  must  turn  round.  I  am  sweaty  enough. 
—  I  should  like  a  drink." 

He  halted,  dug  a  pit,  filled  it  with  turf,  unfastened 
his  flask,  took  a  drink,  and  turned  sharply  to  the  left. 
He  went  —  went  —  the  grass  was  deep,  and  it  was  hot. 

Pakhom  began  to  feel  weary ;  he  looked  at  the 
sun  ;  he  sees  that  it  is  dinner-time. 

''  Well,"  thinks  he,  "I  must  have  a  rest." 

1  Thirty-five  hundred  feet.  ^  Ruseiau,  solnuishko,  little  sun. 


232  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

Pakhom  halted  —  sat  down.  He  ate  his  bread  and 
water,  but  did  not  try  to  lie  down.  He  thinks,  "  If 
you  lie  down,  you  may  fall  asleep." 

He  sat  a  little  while  ;  he  started  on  again  ;  he  began 
to  walk  easily  ;  his  strength  was  renewed  by  his  meal, 
but  now  it  began  to  grow  very  hot  —  yes,  and  the 
sun  began  to  decline ;  but  he  still  keeps  going.  He 
thinks,  "  Endure  it  for  an  hour,  and  you  have  an 
age  to  live.'* 

He  still  went  on,  and  it  made  a  long  distance  in  this 
direction.  He  still  meant  to  turn  to  the  left,  but  lo ! 
the  hollow  still  continued  wet.  It  was  a  pity  to  throw 
it  away.  He  thinks,  ''  This  day  has  been  a  good 
one." 

He  still  continues  straight  ahead.  He  took  in  the 
hollow  —  dug  his  pit  at  the  hollow  —  turned  the  second 
corner. 

Pakhom  gazed  back  in  the  direction  of  the  shikhan. 
The  heat  had  caused  a  haziness,  the  atmosphere  was 
full  of  lines ;  and  through  the  mistiness  the  people  on 
the  shikhan  could  scarcely  be  seen. 

'^  Well,"  thinks  Pakhom,  "  I  have  taken  long 
sides  :  —  I  must  make  this  one  shorter." 

He  started  on  the  third  side  —  he  began  to  hasten 
his  pace.  He  looked  at  the  sun  —  it  was  already  far* 
down  the  west,  and  on  the  third  side  he  had  only  gone 
two  versts ;  and  back  to  the  starting-point,  there  were 
fifteen  versts. 

"No,"  he  thinks,  "even  though  the  estate  should 
be  uneven,  I  must  hurry  back  in  a  straight  line.  It 
wouldn't  do  to  take  too  much :  besides,  I  have  already 
a  good  deal  of  land." 

Pakhom  dug  his  little  pit  in  all  haste,  and  headed 
straight  for  the  shikhan. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  233 


IX. 

Pakhom  goes  straight  to  the  shikhan,  and  now  it 
began  to  be  heavy  work  for  him.  He  was  bathed 
in  sweat ;  and  his  bare  legs  were  cut  and  torn,  and 
began  to  fail  under  him.  He  feels  a  desire  to  rest,  but 
it  is  impossible  :  he  must  not  stop  till  sunset.  The  sun 
does  not  delay,  but  sinks  lower  and  sinks  lower. 

"  Akh !  '*  he  says  to  himself,  ''  can  I  have  made  a 
blunder?  can  I  have  taken  too  much?  why  don't  you 
hurry  along  faster  ?  ' ' 

He  gazes  at  the  shikhan  —  it  gleams  in  the  sun  :  it  is 
a  long  distance  yet  to  the  place,  and  the  sun  is  now 
not  far  from  the  horizon. 

Still  Pakhom  hurries  on :  it  is  hard  for  him,  but 
always  he  quickens  his  pace,  quickens  his  pace.  He 
walks,  walks  —  it  is  still  always  far  off.  He  took  to 
the  double-quick.  He  threw  away  his  blouse,  his 
boots,  his  flask.  He  threw  away  his  shapka,  but  he 
helps  himself  along  with  his  hoe. 

'^Akh!"  he  thinks,  "I  was  too  ,  greedy ;  I  have 
ruined  the  whole  business  ;  1  shall  not  get  there  before 
sunset." 

And  his  breath  began  to  fail  him  all  the  worse  be- 
cause of  his  apprehension.  Pakhom  runs  —  his  shirt 
and  drawers  cling  to  his  body  by  reason  of  sweat  — 
his  mouth  is  parched.  In  his  breast  a  pair  of  black- 
smitli's  bellows,  as  it  were,  are  working ;  and  in  his 
heart  a  mill  is  beating,  and  his  legs  almost  break 
down  under  him. 

It  became  painful  for  Pakhom.  He  thinks,  "Sup- 
pose I  should  die  from  the  strain?  '* 

He  is  afraid  of  dropping  dead,  and  yet  he  cannot 
stop.     *'  I  have  only  been  running,  but  if  I  were  to 


234  POPULAR  LEGENDS. 

Stop  now,  they  would  call  me  a  fool."  He  ran,  ran. 
He  is  now  getting  near,  and  he  hears  the  Bashkirs 
shouting  —  screaming  at  him  ;  and  from  their  screams, 
his  heart  pains  him  more  than  ever. 

Pakhom  runs  on  with  the  last  of  his  strength,  and  the 
sun  still  hovers  on  the  horizon's  edge ;  it  went  into  the 
haze:  there  was  a  great  glow,  red  as  blood.  Now  — 
now  it  is  setting !  The  sun  is  nearl}'  set,  but  still  he  is 
not  far  from  the  place.  Pakhom  still  sees  it ;  and  the 
people  on  the  shikhan  gesticulate  to  him,  urge  him  on. 
He  sees  the  fox-skin  shapka  on  the  ground,  even  sees 
the  money  in  it.  And  he  sees  the  starshind  sitting  on 
the  ground,  his  hands  akimbo  on  his  belly.  And 
Pakhom  remembered  his  dream.  ''Much  land,"  he 
thinks,  "but  perhaps  God  has  not  willed  me  to  live 
on  it.  Okh !  I  have  ruined  myself,"  he  thinks.  ''I 
shall  not  get  it." 

Pakhom  looked  at  the  sun,  but  the  sun  had  gone 
down  under  the  earth :  its  body  was  already  hidden, 
and  its  last  segment  disappears  under  the  horizon. 

Pakhom  exerted  his  last  energies,  threw  himself 
forward  with  his  body :  his  legs  just  kept  him  from 
falling. 

Just  as  Pakhom  reached  the  shikhan,  it  suddenly 
grew  dark.  He  saw  that  the  sun  had  gone.  Pakhom 
groaned. 

"I  have  lost  my  labor,"  he  thinks.  He  was  just 
about  to  stop ;  but  as  he  still  hears  the  Bashkirs  all 
screaming,  he  remembered  that  he  was  below  them, 
and  therefore  the  sun  seemed  to  have  set,  although  it 
had  not  set  to  those  on  top  of  the  shikhan.  Pakhom 
took  a  breath,  ran  up  the  shikhan.  It  was  still  light  on 
the  mound.  Pakhom  ran,  sees  the  shapka.  In  front  of 
the  shapka  sits  the  chief,  and  laughs,  holding  his  sides. 


POPULAR  LEGENDS.  235 

Pakhom  remembered  his  dream,  groaned  ''•Akh  /  "  his 
legs  gave  way  under  him,  and  he  fell  forward,  reaching 
out  his  arms  toward  the  shapka. 

"  Ai !  brave  lad!"  shouted  the  starshind.  '*You 
have  got  a  good  piece  of  land.'* 

Pakhom's  man  ran  to  him,  attempted  to  help  him  to 
his  feet ;  but  from  his  mouth  pours  a  stream  of  blood, 
and  he  lies  dead. 

The  Bashkirs  clucked  with  their  tongues,  expressing 
their  sorrow. 

Pakhom's  rdbdtnik  took  the  hoe,  dug  a  grave  for 
him,  made  it  just  long  enough,  from  head  to  foot, — 
three  arshins,^  —  and  buried  him. 

1  About  seven  feet. 


THE    GODSON. 


"  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth :  but  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil :  but  whosoever  shall  smite 
thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also."  —  Matt.  v.  '69,  39. 

"  Vengeance  is  mine;  1  will  repay."  — Kom.  x'u.  19. 


A  SON  was  born  to  a  poor  mnzhik.  The  muzhik  was 
glad ;  went  to  invite  a  neighbor  to  be  one  of  the  god- 
parents. The  neighbor  declined.  People  don't  incline 
to  stand  as  godparents  to  a  poor  muzhik.  The  poor 
muzhik  went  to  another :  this  one  also  declined. 

He  went  through  all  the  village :  no  one  will  stand 
as  godparent.  The  muzhik  went  to  the  next  village. 
And  a  passer-by  happened  to  meet  him  as  he  was  going. 
The  passer-by  stopped. 

''  Good-morning,"  says  he,  "  muzhichok :  ^  whither 
doth  God  lead  you?  " 

''The  Lord,"  says  the  muzhik,  "has  given  me  a 
little  child,  as  a  care  during  infancy,  as  a  consolation 
for  old  age,  and  to  pray  for  my  soul  when  I  am  dead. 
But,  because  I  am  poor,  no  one  in  our  village  will  stand 
as  godparent.     I  am  trying  to  find  a  godfather." 

And  the  passer-by  says,  "  Let  me  stand  as  one  of 
the  godparents." 

*  Little  muzhik. 
236 


THE   GODSON.  237 

The  muzhik  was  glad ;  thanked  the  passer-by,  and 
says,  "  Whom  now  to  get  for  godmother?  " 

"Well,  for  godmother,"  says  the  passer-by,  "in- 
vite the  store-keeper's  daughter.  Go  into  town  ;  on 
the  market-place  is  a  stone  house  with  shops ;  as  you 
go  into  the  house,  ask  the  merchant  to  let  his  daughter 
be  godmother." 

The  muzhik  had  some  misgivings. 

"How,  godfather  elect,"  says  he,  "can  I  go  to  a 
merchant,  a  rich  man?  He  will  scorn  me:  he  won't 
let  his  daughter  go." 

"That's  not  for  you  to  worry  about.  Go  ask  him. 
Be  ready  to-morrow  morning.  I  will  come  to  the 
christening." 

The  poor  muzhik  returned  home ;  went  to  the  city, 
to  the  merchant's.  He  reined  up  his  horse  in  the  dvor. 
The  merchant  himself  comes  out. 

"  What  is  needed?  "  says  he. 

"  Look  here,  lord  merchant.^  The  Lord  has  given 
me  a  little  child,  as  a  care  during  infancy,  as  a  conso- 
lation for  old  age,  and  to  pray  for  my  soul  when  I  am 
dead.     Pray,  let  your  daughter  be  his  godmother." 

"  But  when  is  the  christening?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning." 

"  Well ;  very  good.  God  be  with  you !  she  shall 
come  to-morrow  to  the  mass." 

On  the  next  day  the  godmother  came ;  the  god- 
father also  came  :  they  christened  the  child.  As  soon 
as  they  had  christened  the  child,  the  godfather  went 
off,  and  they  knew  not  who  he  was.  And  they  did  not 
see  him  from  that  time  forth. 

»  Da  vot  goapodin  kupyita. 


238  THE   GODSON. 


II. 


The  lad  began  to  grow,  to  the  delight  of  his  parents  ; 
and  he  was  strong  and  industrious,  and  intelligent  and 
gentle.  He  reached  the  age  of  ten.  His  parents  had 
him  taught  to  read  and  write.  What  others  took  five 
years  to  learn,  this  lad  learned  in  one  year.  And  there 
was  nothing  left  for  him  to  learn. 

There  came  one  Holy  Week.  The  lad  went  to  his 
godmother,  gave  her  the  usual  Easter  salutation,^  re- 
turned home,  and  asks,  — 

"  Bdtiushka  and  mdtushka,^  where  does  my  god- 
father live?  I  should  like  to  go  to  him,  to  give  him 
Easter  greetings." 

And  the  father  says  to  him,  *'  We  know  not,  my 
dear  little  son,  where  thy  godfather  lives.  We  our- 
selves are  sorry  about  it.  We  have  not  seen  him  since 
the  day  when  he  was  at  thy  christening.  And  we  have 
not  heard  of  him,  and  we  know  not  where  he  lives :  we 
know  not  whether  he  is  alive." 

The  son  bowed  low  to  his  father,  to  his  mother. 

"  Let  me  go,  bdtiushka  and  mdtushka,  and  find  my 
godfather.  I  wish  to  go  to  him  and  exchange  Easter 
greetings." 

The  father  and  mother  let  their  son  go.  And  the 
boy  set  forth  to  find  his  godfather. 

1  A  kiss,  with  the  words,  Khristos  voskres.  This  custom  is  universal 
among  the  peasantry.  The  person  saluted  replies,  Voestinu  wosAre's  —  Risen 
indeed. 

2  Little  father  and  mother. 


THE   GODSON.  239 


III. 


The  lad  set  forth  from  home,  and  walked  along  the 
highway.  He  walked  half  a  day  :  a  passer-by  met  him. 
The  passer-by  halted.  "  Good-afternoon,  lad,"  says 
he  :  ''  whither  does  God  lead  thee?  " 

And  the  boy  replied,  '.'  I  went,"  saj's  he,  "to  my  dear 
godmother,^  to  give  her  Easter  greetings.  I  went  back 
home.  I  asked  my  father  and  mother  where  my  god- 
father lived :  I  wished  to  exchange  Easter  greetings 
with  him.  My  father  and  mother  said,  '  We  know  not, 
little  son,  where  thy  godfather  lives.  From  the  day 
when  he  was  at  thy  christening,  he  has  been  gone  from 
us  ;  and  we  know  nothing  about  him,  and  we  know  not 
whether  he  is  alive.'  And  I  had  a  desire  to  see  my 
godfather,  and  so  1  am  on  my  way  to  find  him." 

And  the  passer-by  said,  "I  am  thj^  godfather." 

The  malchik  was  delighted,  exchanged  Easter  greet- 
ings with  his  godfather. 

"  And  where,"  says  he,  "  dear  godfather,^  art  thou 
preparing  to  go  now?  If  in  our  direction,  then  come 
to  our  house  ;  but  if  to  thy  own  house,  then  I  will  go 
with  thee." 

And  the  godfather  said,  — 

"  I  have  not  time  now  to  go  to  thy  house :  I  have 
business  in  the  villages.  But  I  shall  be  at  home  to- 
morrow.    Then  come  to  me." 

But  how,  bdtiushka,  shall  I  get  to  thee?  " 

1  Mdtushka  kriatnaya.  *  Bdtiuahka  krestnui. 


240  THE   GODSON. 

"Well,  then,  go  always  toward  the  sunrise,  always 
straight  ahead.  Thou  wilt  reach  a  forest:  thou  wilt 
see  in  the  midst  of  the  forest  a  clearing.  Sit  down 
in  this  clearing,  rest,  and  notice  what  there  may  be 
there.  Thou  wilt  come  through  the  forest :  thou  wilt 
see  a  garden,  and  in  the  garden  a  palace  with  a  golden 
roof.  That  is  my  house.  Go  up  to  the  gates.  I  my- 
self will  meet  thee  there."  Thus  said  the  godfather, 
and  disappeared  from  his  godson's  eyes. 


THE   GODSON.  241 


IV. 


The  lad  went  as  his  godfather  had  bidden  him.  He 
went,  went:  he  reaches  the  forest.  He  walked  into 
the  clearing,  and  sees  in  the  middle  of  the  meadow 
a  pine-tree,  and  on  the  pine-tree  a  rope  fastened  to  a 
branch,  and  on  the  rope  an  oaken  log  weighing  three 
piids.^  And  under  the  log  is  a  trough  with  honey. 
While  the  boy  is  pondering  why  the  honey  is  put 
there,  and  why  the  log  is  hung,  a  crackling  is  heard  in 
the  forest,  and  he  sees  some  bears  coming,  —  a  she- 
bear  in  advance,  behind  her  a  yearling,  and  then  three 
young  cubs.  The  she-bear  stretched  out  her  nose,  and 
marched  straight  for  the  trough,  and  the  young  bears 
after  her.  The  she-bear  thrust  her  snout  into  the  honey. 
She  called  her  cubs :  the  cubs  gambolled  up  to  her, 
pressed  up  to  the  trough.  The  log  swung  off  a  little, 
came  back,  jostled  the  cubs.  The  she-bear  saw  it, 
pushed  the  log  with  her  paw.  The  log  swung  off  a  little 
farther,  again  came  back,  struck  in  the  midst  of  the 
cubs,  one  on  the  back,  one  on  the  head. 

The  cubs  began  to  whine,  jumped  away.  The  she- 
bear  growled,  clutched  the  log  with  both  paws  above 
her  head,  pushed  it  away  from  her.  The  log  flew  high. 
The  yearling  bounded  up  to  the  trough,  thrust  his  snout 
into  the  honey,  munches  ;  and  the  others  began  to  come 
up  again.  They  had  not  time  to  get  there,  when  the 
log  returned,  struck  the  yearling  in  the  head,  killed 
him  with  the  blow. 

1  108.33  pounds. 


242  THE   GODSON. 

The  she-bear  growled  more  fiercely  than  before, 
clutches  the  log,  and  pushes  it  up  with  all  her  might. 
The  log  flew  higher  than  the  branch :  even  the  rope 
slackened.  The  she-bear  went  to  the  trough,  and  all 
the  cubs  behind  her.  The  log  flew,  flew  up  ;  stopped, 
fell  back.  The  lower  it  falls,  the  swifter  it  gets.  It 
gets  very  swift :  it  flew  back  toward  the  she-bear. 
It  strikes  her  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  pate.  The 
she-bear  rolled  over,  stretched  out  her  legs,  and 
breathed  her  last.     The  cubs  ran  away. 


THE   GODSON,  243 


V. 


The  lad  was  amazed,  and  went  farther.  He  comes 
to  a  great  garden,  and  in  the  garden  a  loftj^  palace 
with  golden  roof.  And  at  the  gate  stands  the  god- 
father ;  smiles.  The  godfather  greeted  his  godson,  led 
him  through  the  gate,  and  brought  him  into  the  garden. 
Nevei"  even  in  dreams  had  the  mdlchik  dreamed  of  such 
beauty  and  bliss  as  there  were  in  this  garden. 

The  godfather  led  the  mdlchik  into  the  palace.  The 
palace  was  still  better.  The  godfather  led  the  mdlchik 
through  all  the  apartments.  Each  was  better  than  the 
other,  each"  more  festive  than  the  other ;  and  he  led 
him  to  a  sealed  door. 

"Seest  thou  this  door?"  says  he.  "There  is  no 
key  to  it,  only  a  seal.  It  can  be  opened,  but  I  forbid 
thee.  Live  and  roam  wherever  thou  pleasest,  and  as 
thou  pleasest.  Enjoy  all  these  pleasures :  only  one 
thing  is  forbidden  thee.  Enter  not  this  door.  But,  if 
thou  shouldst  enter,  then  remember  what  thou  sawest 
in  the  forest." 

The  godfather  said  this,  and  went.  The  godson 
was  left  alone,  and  began  to  live.  And  it  was  so  fes- 
tive and  joyful,  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  lived 
there  only  three  hours,  whereas  he  lived  there  thirty 
years. 

And  after  thirty  years  had  passed,  the  godson  ^  came 
to  the  sealed  door,  and  began  to  ponder. 

1  Kriatnik. 


244  THE   GODSON. 

*' Why  did  my  godfather  forbid  me  to  go  into  this 
chamber?     Let  me  go,  and  see  what  is  there.'* 

He  gave  the  door  a  push  ;  the  seals  fell  off ;  the  door 
opened.  The  kr^stnik  entered,  and  sees  an  apartment, 
larger  than  the  rest,  and  finer  than  the  rest ;  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  apartment  stands  a  golden  throne. 

The  krestnik  walked,  walked  through  the  apartment, 
and  came  to  the  throne,  mounted  the  steps,  and  sat 
down.  He  sat  down,  and  he  sees  a  sceptre  lying  by 
the  throne. 

The  krestnik  took  the  sceptre  into  his  hands.  As 
soon  as  he  took  the"  sceptre  into  his  hands,  instantly 
all  the  four  walls  of  the  apartment  fell  away.  The 
krestnik  gazed  around  him,  and  sees  the  whole  world, 
and  all  that  men  are  doing  in  the  world. 

He  looked  straight  ahead :  he  sees  the  sea,  and  ships 
sailing  on  it.  He  looked  toward  the  right :  he  sees  for- 
eign, non-Christian  nations  living.  He  looked  toward 
the  left  side :  there  live  Christians,  but  not  Russians. 
He  looked  toward  the  fourth  side:  there  live  our 
Russians. 

*'Now,"  says  he,  "let  me  look,  and  see  what  is 
doing  at  home  —  if  the  grain  is  growing  well." 

He  looked  toward  his  own  field,  sees  the  sheaves 
standing.  He  began  to  count  the  sheaves  [to  see] 
whether  there  would  be  much  grain ;  and  he  sees  a 
telyega  driving  into  the  field,  and  a  muzhik  sitting 
in  it. 

The  krestnik  thought  that  it  was  his  sire  come  by 
night  to  gather  his  sheaves.  He  looks  :  it  is  the  thief, 
Vasili  Kudridshof ,  coming.  He  went  to  the  sheaves, 
began  to  lay  hands  upon  them.  The  krestnik  was 
provoked.  He  cried,  "  Batiusbka,  they  are  stealing 
sheaves  in  the  field  !  " 


THE   GODSON.  245^ 

His  father  woke  in  the  night.  "I  dreamed,"  says 
he,  "  that  they  were  stealing  sheaves.  I  am  going  to 
see."     He  mounted  his  horse  :  he  rode  off. 

He  comes  to  the  field ;  he  sees  Vaslli ;  he  sliouted  to 
the  muzhiks.  Vasili  was  beaten.  They  took  him, 
carried  him  off  to  jail. 

The  krestnik  looked  at  the  city  where  his  godmother 
used  to  live.  He  sees  that  she  is  married  to  a  mer- 
chant. And  she  is  in  bed,  asleep  ;  but  her  husband  is 
up,  has  gone  to  his  mistress.  The  krestnik  shouted  to 
the  merchant's  wife,^ ''  Get  up  !  thy  husband  is  engaged 
in  bad  business." 

The  godmother  jumped  out  of  bed,  dressed  herself, 
found  where  her  husband  was,  upbraided  him,  beat  the 
mistress,  and  drove  her  husband  from  her. 

Once  more  the  krestnik  looked  toward  his  mother, 
and  sees  that  she  is  lying  down  in  the  izbd,  and  a 
robber  is  sneaking  in,  and  begins  to  break  open  the 
chests. 

His  mother  awoke,  and  screamed.  The  robber 
noticed  it,  seized  an  axe,  brandished  it  over  the 
mother,  was  about  to  kill  her. 

The  krestnik  could  not  restrain  himself,  lets  fly  the 
sceptre  at  the  robber,  strikes  him  straight  in  the  temple, 
killed  him  on  the  spot. 

1  Kupchikha. 


246  THE   GODSON. 


VI. 


The  instant  the  kr^stnik  killed  the  robber,  the  walls 
closed  again,  the  apartment  became  what  it  was. 

The  door  opened,  the  godfather  entered.  The  god- 
father came  to  his  son,  took  him  by  the  hand,  drew 
him  from  the  throne,  and  says,  — 

''  Thou  hast  not  obeyed  my  command  :  one  evil  deed 
thou  hast  done,  —  thou  openedst  the  sealed  door  ;  a  sec- 
ond evil  deed  thou  hast  done,  —  thou  hast  mounted  the 
throne,  and  taken  my  sceptre  into  thy  hand ;  a  third 
evil  deed  thou  hast  done,  —  thou  hast  added  much  to 
the  wickedness  in  the  world.  If  thou  hadst  sat  there 
an  hour  longer,  thou  wouldst  have  ruined  half  of  the 
people." 

And  again  the  godfather  led  his  son  to  the  throne, 
took  the  sceptre  in  his  hands.  And  again  the  wails 
were  removed,  and  all  things  became  visible. 

And  the  godfather  said,  — 

"  Look  now  at  what  thou  hast  done  to  thy  father. 
Vasili  has  now  been  in  jail  a  year ;  he  has  learned  all 
the  evil  that  there  is ;  he  has  become  perfectly  des- 
perate. Look  I  now  he  has  stolen  two  of  thy  father's 
horses,  and  thou  seest  how  he  sets  fire  to  the  dvor. 
This  is  what  thou  hast  done  to  thy  father. ' ' 

As  soon  as  the  kr^stnik  saw  that  his  father's  house 
was  on  fire,  his  godfather  shut  it  from  him,  commanded 
him  to  look  on  the  other  side. 

"Here,"  says  he,  ''it  has  been  a  year  since  thy 


THE   GOD§ON.  247 

godmother's  husband  deserted  his  wife  ;  he  gads  about 
with  others,  all  astray  :  and  she,  out  of  grief,  has  taken 
to  drink ;  and  his  former  mistress  has  gone  wholly  to 
the  bad.  This  is  what  thou  hast  done  to  thy  god- 
mother." 

The  godfather  also  hid  this,  pointed  to  his  house. 
And  he  saw  his  mother  :  she  is  weeping  over  her  sins  ; 
she  repents,  says,  "  Better  had  it  been  for  the  robber 
to  have  killed  me,  for  then  I  should  not  have  fallen 
into  such  sins." 

"  This  is  what  thou  hast  done  to  thy  mother." 

The  godfather  hid  this  also,  and  pointed  down.  And 
the  kr^stnik  saw  the  robber  :  two  guards  hold  the  rob- 
ber before  the  prison. 

And  the  godfather  said,  "  This  man  has  taken  nine 
lives.  He  ought  himself  to  have  atoned  for  his  sins. 
But  thou  hast  killed  him :  thou  hast  taken  all  his  sins 
upon  thyself.  This  is  what  thou  hast  done  unto  thy- 
self. The  she-bear  pushed  the  log  once,  it  disturbed 
her  cubs ;  she  pushed  it  a  second  time,  it  killed  her 
yearling ;  but  the  third  time  that  she  pushed  it,  it 
killed  herself.  So  has  it  been  with  thee.  I  give  thee 
now  thirty  years'  grace.  Go  out  into  the  world,  atone 
for  the  robber's  sins.  If  thou  dost  not  atone  for  them, 
thou  must  go  in  his  place." 

And  the  kr^stnik  said,  "How  shall  I  atone  for  his 
sins?" 

And  the  godfather  said,  ''  When  thou  hast  undone 
as  much  evil  as  thou  hast  done  in  the  world,  then  thou 
wilt  have  atoned  for  thy  sins,  and  the  sins  of  the 
robber." 

And  the  kr^stnik  asked,  ''How  undo  the  evil  that 
is  in  the  world?  " 

The  godfather  said,  "Go  straight  toward  the  sun- 


248  THE   GODSON. 

rise.  Thoii  wilt  reach  a  field,  men  in  it.  Notice  what 
the  men  are  doing,  and  teach  them  what  thou  knowest. 
Then  go  farther,  notice  what  thou  seest:  thou  wilt 
come  on  the  fourth  day  to  a  forest ;  in  the  forest  is  a 
cell,  in  the  cell  lives  a  mendicant  ;^  tell  him  all  that  has 
taken  place.  He  will  instruct  thee.  When  thou  hast 
done  all  that  the  mendicant  commands  thee,  then  thou 
wilt  have  atoned  for  thy  sins,  and  the  sins  of  the 
robber." 

Thus  spoke  the  godfather,  and  let  the  kr^stnik  out  of 
the  gate. 

1  SUlreta. 


THE   GODSON.  249 


VII. 


The  kr^stnik  went  on  his  way.  He  walks,  and 
thinks,  ''  How  can  I  undo  evil  in  the  world?  Is  evil 
destroyed  in  the  world  by  banishing  men  into  banish- 
ment, by  putting  them  in  prison,  by  executing  them  ? 
How  can  I  go  to  work  to  destroy  evil,  to  say  nothing 
of  taking  on  one  the  sins  of  others?  " 

The  kr^stnik  thought,  thought,  could  not  think  it  out. 
He  went,  went :  he  comes  to  a  field.  In  the  field  the 
grain  has  come  up  good  and  thick,  and  it  is  harvest- 
time.  The  kr^stnik  sees  that  a  little  heifer  has  stra3'ed 
into  this  grain,  and  the  men  have  mounted  their  horses, 
and  are  hunting  the  little  heifer  through  the  grain,  from 
one  side  to  the  other.  Just  as  soon  as  the  little  heifer 
tries  to  escape  from  the  grain,  some  one  would  ride  up  : 
the  little  heifer  would  be  frightened  back  into  the  grain 
again.  And  again  they  gallop  after  it  through  the 
grain.  And  on  one  side  stands  a  baba,  weeping. 
"  They  are  running  my  little  heifer,"  she  says. 

And  the  kr^stnik  began  to  ask  the  muzhiks,  "  Wh}^ 
do  you  so  ?  All  of  you  ride  out  of  the  grain  !  Let  the 
khozydika  herself  call  out  the  heifer.'* 

The  men  obeyed.  The  baba  went  to  the  edge,  be- 
gan to  call,  "  Co',  boss,  co',  boss."  ^ 

The  little  heifer  pricked  up  her  ears,  listened,  listened  ; 
ran  to  her  mistress,  thrust  her  nose  under  her  skirt, 

1  Tpriusi,  tpriusi,  hurydnochka,  tpriusi,  tpriusil  Buryonocbka  is  the 
diminutive  of  a  word  meauing  nut-brown  cow. 


250  THE  GODSON. 

almost  knocked  her  off  her  legs.  And  the  muzhiks 
were  glad,  and  the  baba  was  glad,  and  the  little  heifer 
was  glad. 

The  krestnik  went  farther,  and  thinks,  — 
"  Now  I  see  that  evil  is  increased  by  evil.  The 
more  men  chase  evil,  the  more  evil  they  make.  It  is 
impossible,  of  course,  to  destroy  evil  by  evil.  But  how 
destroy  it?  I  know  not.  It  was  good,  the  way  the 
little  heifer  listened  to  its  khozyaika.  But  suppose 
it  hadn't  listened,  how  would  they  have  got  it  out?  '* 

The  krestnik  pondered,  could  think  of  nothing,  went 
farther. 


THE   GODSON,  251 


VIII. 

He  went,  went.  He  comes  to  a  village.  He  asked 
for  a  night's  lodging  at  the  last  izbd.  The  khozyai'ka 
consented.  In  the  izba  was  no  one,  only  the  kho- 
zyaika,  [who]  is  washing  np. 

The  kr^stnik  went  in,  climbed  on  top  of  the  oven, 
and  began  to  watch  what  the  khozyai'ka  is  doing :  he 
sees,  —  the  khozydika  was  scrubbing  the  izbd ;  she 
began  to  rub  the  table,  she  scrubbed  the  table ;  she 
contrived  to  wipe  it  with  a  dirty  towel.  She  is  ready 
to  wipe  off  one  side  —  but  the  table  is  not  cleaned. 
Slreaks  of  dirt  are  left  on  the  table  from  the  dirty  towel. 
She  is  ready  to  wipe  it  on  the  other  side :  while  she 
destroj^s  some  streaks,  she  makes  others.  She  begins 
again  to  rub  it  from  end  to  end.  Again  the  same.  She 
daubs  it  with  the  dirty  towel.  She  destroys  one  spot, 
she  sticks  another  on.  The  kr^stnik  watched,  watched  ; 
says, — 

"  What  is  this  that  thou  art  doing,  kJiozydiushJca?  " 

''  Why,  dost  not  see?"  says  she  :  ''  I  am  cleaning  up 
for  Easter.  But  here,  I  can't  clean  my  table  :  it's  all 
dirty.     I'm  all  spent." 

*' If  thou  wouldst  rinse  out  the  towel,"  says  he, 
*"•  then  thou  couldst  wipe  it  off." 

The  khozydika  did  so :  she  quickly  cleaned  off  the 
table. 

'"  Thank  thee,"  says  she,  *'  for  telling  me  how." 

In  the  morning  the  kr^stnik  bade  good-by  to  the 


252  THE   GODSON. 

khozyaika,  walked  farther.  He  went,  went ;  came  to 
a  forest.  He  sees  muzhiks  bending  hoops.  The 
krestnik  came  up,  sees  the  muzhiks ;  but  the  hoop 
does  not  sta}-  bent. 

The  krestnik  looked,  sees  the  muzhiks'  block  is  loose. 
There  is  no  support  in  it.  The  krestnik  looked  on, 
and  says,  — 

''  What  are  you  doing,  brother?  '* 

*'  We  are  bending  hoops  ;  and  twice  we  have  steamed 
them  :  we  are  all  spent ;  they  will  not  bend." 

*'  Well,  now,  brothers,  just  fasten  your  block :  then 
you  will  make  it  stay  bent. ' ' 

The  muzhiks  heeded  what  he  said,  fastened  the  block, 
and  their  work  went  in  tune. 

The  krestnik  spent  the  night  with  them  ;  went  far- 
ther. All  day  and  all  night  he  walked :  about  dawn 
he  met  some  drovers.  He  lay  down  near  them,  and  he 
sees,  —  the  drovers  have  halted  the  cattle,  and  are  strug- 
gling with  a  fire.  They  have  taken  dry  twigs,  lighted 
them  :  they  did  not  allow  them  to  get  well  started,  but 
piled  the  fire  with  wet  brush-wood.  The  brush-wood 
began  to  hiss :  the  fire  went  out.  The  drovers  took 
more  dry  stuff,  kindled  it,  again  piled  on  the  wet  brush- 
wood. Again  they  put  it  out.  They  struggled  long  ; 
could  not  kindle  the  fire. 

And  the  krestnik  said,  "Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry 
to'  put  on  the  brush- wood,  but  first  start  a  nice  little 
fire.     When  it  burns  up  briskly,  then  pile  on." 

Thus  the  drovers  did.  They  started  a  powerful  fire, 
laid  on  the  brush-wood.  The  brush-wood  caught,  the 
pile  burned.  The  krestnik  staid  a  little  while  with 
them,  and  went  farther.  The  krestnik  pondered,  pon- 
dered, for  what  purpose  he  had  seen  these  three 
things  :  he  could  not  tell. 


THE  GODSON.  253 


IX. 


The  kr^stnik  went,  went.  A  day  went  by.  He 
comes  to  a  forest :  in  the  forest  is  a  cell.  The  kr^st- 
nik  comes  to  the  cell,  knocks.  A  voice  from  the  cell 
asks,  — 

"Who  is  there?'* 

"A  great  sinner:  I  come  to  atone  for  the  sins  of 
another.** 

The  hermit^  came  forth,  and  asks,  "  What  are  these 
sins  that  thou  bearest  for  another?  " 

The  kr^stnik  told  him  all,  —  about  his  godfather,  and 
about  the  she-bear  and  her  cubs,  and  about  the  throne 
in  the  sealed  apartment,  and  about  his  godfather's  pro- 
hibition ;  and  how  he  had  seen  the  muzhiks  in  the 
field,  how  they  trampled  down  all  the  grain,  and  how 
the  little  heifer  came  of  her  own  accord  to  her  khoz- 
ydika. 

'^I  understood,"  says  he,  "that  it  is  impossible 
to  destroy  evil  by  evil ;  but  I  cannot  understand  how  to. 
destroy  it.     Teach  me.'* 

And  the  hermit  said,  — 

"  But  tell  me  what  more  thou  hast  seen  on  thy 
way." 

The  kr^stnik  told  him  about  the  peasant- woman,  — 
how  she  scrubbed ;  and  about  the  muzhiks,  —  how 
they  made  hoops ;  and  about  the  herdsmen,  —  how 
they  lighted  the  fire. 

»  StdreU. 


254  THE   GODSON, 

The  hermit  listened,  returned  to  his  cell,  brought  out 
a  dull  hatchet. 

''  Come  with  me,"  saj's  he. 

The  hermit  went  to  a  clearing  away  from  the  cell, 
pointed  to  a  tree. 

''  Cut  it  down,"  sa3^s  he. 

The  kr^stuik  cut  it  down  :  the  tree  fell. 

"  Now  cut  it  in  three  lengths." 

The  krestnik  cut  it  in  three  lengths.  The  hermit  re- 
turned to  the  cell  again,  brought  some  fire. 

'*  Burn,"  says  he,  ''  these  three  logs." 

The  krestnik  made  a  fire,  burns  the  three  logs. 
There  remained  three  firebrands. 

"  Half  bury  them  in  the  earth.     This  way." 

The  krestnik  buried  them. 

"  Thou  seest  the  river  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  : 
bring  hither  water  in  thy  mouth,  water  them.  Water 
this  firebrand  just  as  thou  didst  teach  the  baba  ;  water 
this  one  as  thou  didst  instruct  the  hoop-makers ;  and 
water  this  one  as  thou  didst  instruct  the  herdsmen. 
When  all  three  shall  have  sprouted,  and  three  apple- 
trees  sprung  from  the  firebrands,  then  wilt  thou  know 
how  evil  is  destroyed  in  men :  then  thou  shalt  atone 
for  thy  sins." 

The  hermit  said  this,  and  returned  to  his  cell.  The 
krestnik  pondered,  pondered :  he  cannot  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  what  the  hermit  had  said.  But  he  de- 
cided to  do  what  he  had  commanded  him. 


THE   GODSON.  255 


X. 


The  kr^stnik  went  to  the  river,  "  took  prisoner"  a 
mouthful  of  water,  poured  it  on  the  firebrand.  He 
went  again  and  again.  He  also  watered  the  other 
two.  The  kr^stnik  grew  weary,  wanted  something  to 
eat.  He  went  to  the  hermit's  cell  to  ask  for  food. 
He  opened  the  door,  and  the  hermit  is  lying  dead  on  a 
bench.  The  kr^stnik  looked  round,  found  some  bis- 
cuits, and  ate  them.  He  found  also  a  spade,*  and 
began  to  dig  a  grave  for  the  hermit.  At  night  he 
brought  water,  watei*s  the  brands,  and  by  day  he  dug 
the  grave.  As  soon  as  he  had  dug  the  grave,  he  was 
anxious  to  bury  the  hermit :  people  came  from  the  vil- 
lage, bringing  food  for  tlie  hermit. 

The  people  learned  how  the  hermit  had  died,  and  had 
ordained  the  kr^stnik  to  take  his  place.  The  people 
helped  bury  the  hermit,  they  left  bread  for  the  kr^stnik : 
they  promised  to  bring  more,  and  departed. 

And  the  krestnik  remained*  to  live  in  the  hermit's 
place.  The  krestnik  lives  there,  subsisting  on  what 
people  bring  him,  and  he  fulfils  what  was  told  him,  — 
brings  water  in  his  mouth  from  the  river,  waters  the 
brands. 

Thus  lived  the  krestnik  for  a  year,  and  many  people 
began  to  come  to  him.  The  fame  of  him  went  forth, 
that  there  is  living  in  the  forest  a  holy  man,  that  he  is 
working  out  his  salvation  by  bringing  water  in  his 
mouth  from  the  river  under  the  mountain,  that  he  is 


256  THE   GODSON. 

watering  tho  burned  stumps.  Many  people  began  to 
come  to  him.  And  rich  merchants  began  to  come, 
brought  him  gifts.  The  krestnik  took  nothing  for 
himself,  save  what  was  necessary ;  but  whatever  was 
given  him,  he  distributed  among  the  poor. 

And  thus  the  kr(^stnik  continued  to  live  :  half  of  the 
day  he  brings  water  in  his  mouth,  waters  the  brands ; 
and  the  other  half  he  sighs,  and  receives  the  people. 

And  the  kri^stnik  began  to  think  that  thus  he  had 
been  commanded  to  live,  and  that  thus  he  would  de- 
stroy sin,  and  atone  for  his  sins. 

Thus  the  krestnik  lived  a  second  year,  and  he  never 
let  a  single  day  pass  without  watering ;  but  as  yet  not 
a  single  brand  had  sprouted. 

One  time  he  is  sitting  in  his  cell  he  hears  riding  past 
a  man  on  horseback,  and  singing  songs. ^  The  krest- 
nik went  out  to  see  what  kind  of  a  man  it  was.  He  sees 
a  strong  young  man.  His  clothes  are  good,  and  his 
horse  and  the  saddle  on  which  he  sat  were  rich. 

The  krestnik  stopped  him,  and  asked  who  this  man 
was,  and  whence  he  came. 

The  man  halted. 

''I,"  says  he,  ''  am  a  robber.  I  ride  along  the  high- 
ways, I  kill  men  :  the  more  men  I  kill,  the  gayer  songs 
I  sing.*' 

The  krestnik  was  alarmed  ;  asks  himself,  ''  How  de- 
stroy the  evil  in  this  man  ?  It  is  good  for  me  to  speak 
to  those  who  come  to  me  and  repent.  But  this  man 
boasts  of  his  wickedness.'* 

The  krestnik  said  nothing,  started  to  go  off,  but 
thought,  ''Now,  how  to  act?  If  this  cut-throat  is  in 
the  habit  of  riding  by  this  way,  he  will  frighten  ever}'- 
body :  people  will  cease  coming  to  me.    And  there  will 


THE   GODSON.  257 

be  no  advantage  to  them,  —  yes,  and  then  how  shall  I 
live?" 

And  the  kr^stnik  stopped.  And  he  spoke  to  the 
cut-throat,  — 

"  Here,"  says  he,  "  people  come  to  me,  not  to  boast 
of  their  wickedness,  but  to  repent,  and  put  their  sins 
away  through  prayer.  Repent  thou  also,  if  thou  fear- 
est  God ;  but  if  thou  dost  not  desire  to  repent,  then 
get  thee  hence,  and  never  return,  trouble  me  not,  and 
frighten  not  the  people  from  coming  to  me.  And  if 
thou  dost  not  obey,  God  will  punish  thee." 

The  cut-throat  jeered,  — 

"  I  am  neither  afraid  of  God,  nor  will  I  obey  thee. 
Thou  art  not  my  master.^  Thou,"  says  he,  "  livest 
by  thy  piety,  and  I  live  by  robbery.  We  must  all  get 
a  living.  Teach  thou  the  babas  that  come  to  thee, 
but  read  me  no  lecture.  And  in  reply  to  what  thou 
rubbest  into  me  about  God,  to-morrow  I  will  kill  two 
men.  And  I  would  kill  thee  to-day,  but  I  do  not  wish 
to  soil  my  hands.  But  henceforth  don't  come  into  my 
way." 

Thus  swaggered  the  cut-throat,  and  rode  off.  But 
the  cut-throat  came  by  no  more,  and  the  kr^stnik  lived 
in  his  former  style  comfortably  for  eight  years. 

»  Khozydin. 


258  THE   GODSON. 


XI. 


One  night  the  kr^stnik  went  out  to  water  his  brands : 
he  returned  to  his  cell  to  rest,  and  he  sits  watching  the 
road,  if  any  people  should  soon  be  coming.  And  on 
this  day  not  a  soul  came.  The  kr^stnik  sat  alone  by 
his  door;  and  it  seemed  lonesome,  and  he  began  to 
think  about  his  life.  He  remembered  how  the  cut- 
throat had  reproached  him  for  getting  his  living  by  his 
piety,  and  the  kr^stuik  reviewed  his  life :  "  I  am  not 
living,"  he  thinks,  "as  the  hermit  commanded  me  to 
live.  The  hermit  imposed  a  penance  upon  me,  and  I 
am  getting  from  it  bread  and  popular  glory  ;  and  so  led 
away  have  I  been  by  it,  that  I  am  lonesome  when  peo- 
ple do  not  come  to  me.  And  when  the  people  come, 
then  my  only  joy  consists  in  the  fact  that  they  praise 
my  holiness.  It  is  not  right  to  live  so.  I  have  been 
entangled  by  popular  glory.  I  have  not  atoned  for 
my  former  sins,  but  I  have  incurred  fresh  ones.  I  wiU 
go  into  the  forest,  to  another  place,  so  that  the  people 
may  not  come  to  me.  I  will  live  alone,  so  as  to  atone 
for  my  former  sins,  and  not  incur  new  ones." 

Thus  reasoned  the  krestnik  ;  and  he  took  a  little  bag 
of  biscuits  and  his  spade,  and  went  away  from  the 
cell  into  a  cave,  so  as  to  dig  for  himself  a  hut  in  a 
gloomy  place,  to  hide  from  the  people. 

The  krestnik  walks  along  with  his  little  bag  and  his 
spade.  The  cut- throat  rides  up  to  him.  The  krestnik 
was  frightened,  tried  to  run,  but  the  cut-throat  over- 


THE   GODSON.  259 

took  him.  ''  Where  art  going?  "  says  he.  The  kr<^st- 
nik  told  him  that  he  wanted  to  go  away  from  people, 
to  such  a  place  that  no  one  would  find  him. 

The  cut-throat  marvelled. 

*'  How  wilt  thou  live  now,  when  people  no  longer 
come  to  thee?  " 

The  kr^stuik  had  not  thought  of  thiis  before  ;  but 
when  the  cut- throat  asked  him,  he  began  to  think  about 
his  sustenance. 

"  On  what  God  will  give,'*  says  he. 

The  cut-throat  said  nothing,  rode  on. 

"Why!"  thinks  the  kr^stnik,  "I  said  nothing  to 
him  about  his  life.  Perhaps  now  he  is  repentant.  To- 
day he  seemed  more  subdued,  and  did  not  threaten  to 
kill  me." 

And  the  kr^stnik  shouted  to  the  cut-throat,  — 

"But  it  is  needful  for  thee  to  repent.  Thou  wilt 
not  escape  from  God." 

The  cut-throat  wheeled  his  horse  around.  He  drew 
a  kuife  from  his  belt,  shook  it  at  the  kr^stnik.  The 
krestnik  was  frightened :  he  ran  into  the  forest. 

The  cut-throat  did  not  attempt  to  follow  him,  only 
shouted,  "Twice  I  have  let  thee  off:  fall  not  in  my 
hands  a  third  time,  else  I  will  kill  thee !  " 

He  said  this,  and  rode  off. 

The  krestnik  went  at  eventide  to  water  his  brands : 
behold !  one  has  put  forth  sprouts.  An  apple-tree  is 
growing  from  it. 


260  THE   GODSON. 


XII. 


The  kr^stnik  hid  from  the  people,  and  began  to  live 
alone.     His  biscuits  were  used  up. 

*'  Well,"  he  says  to  himself,  "now  I  will  seek  for 
roots." 

As  he  began  his  search,  he  sees,  hanging  on  a  bough, 
a  little  bag  of  biscuits.  The  kr^stnik  took  it,  and 
began  to  eat. 

As  soon  as  his  biscuits  were  gone,  again  another 
little  bag  came,  on  the  same  branch.  And  thus  the 
kr^stnik  lived.  He  had  only  one  grievance :  he  was 
afraid  of  the  cut-throat.  As  soon  as  he  heard  the 
cut-throat,  he  would  hide  himself  :  he  would  think, 
"  He  will  kill  me,  and  I  shall  not  have  time  to  atone 
for  my  sins." 

Thus  he  lived  for  ten  years  more.  One  apple-tree 
grew,  and  thus  there  remained  two  firebrands  as  fire- 
brands. 

The  kr^stnik  once  arose  betimes,  started  to  fulfil  his 
task :  he  soaked  the  earth  around  the  firebrands,  be- 
came weary,  and  sat  down  to  rest. 

He  sits:  he  gets  rested,  and  thinks,  "I  have  done 
wrong  [because]  I  have  been  afraid  of  death.  If 
it  please  God,  I  may  thus  atone  by  death  for  my 
sins." 

Even  while  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his 
mind,  suddenly  he  hears  the  cut-thi'oat  coming :  he  is 
cursing. 


TEE  GODSON.  261 

The  kr^stnik  listened ;  and  he  thinks,  *' Without 
God,  no  evil,  no  good,  can  come  to  me  from  any 
one." 

And  he  went  out  to  meet  the  cut- throat.  He  sees 
the  cut- throat  is  not  riding  alone,  but  has  a  man  behind 
him  on  the  saddle.  And  the  man's  hands  and  mouth 
are  tied  up.  The  man  is  silent,  but  the  cut-throat  is 
cursing  him. 

The  kr^stnik  went  out  to  the  cut-throat,  stood  in 
front  of  the  horse. 

"Where,"  says  he,  ''art  thou  taking  this 
man  ? ' ' 

*'  I  am  taking  him  into  the  forest.  This  is  a  mer- 
chant's son.  He  will  not  tell  where  his  father's  money 
is  hidden.  I  am  going  to  thrash  him  until  he  will 
tell." 

And  the  cut-throat  started  to  ride  on.  But  the 
kr^stnik  did  not  allow  it :  he  seized  the  horse  by  the 
bridle.     ''Let  this  man  go,'*  says  he. 

The  cut- throat  was  wroth  with  the  kr^stnik,  threat- 
ened him. 

"Dost  thou  desire  this?"  saj-s  he.  "I  promise 
thee  I  will  kill  thee.     Out  of  the  way !  " 

The  kr^stnik  was  not  intimidated. 

'■  I  will  not  get  out  of  thy  way,"  says  he.  "I  fear 
thee  not,  I  fear  God  only.  And  God  bids  me  not  let 
thee  go.     Unloose  the  man." 

The  cut-throat  scowled,  drew  out  his  knife,  cut  the 
cords,  let  the  merchant's  son  go  free. 

"  Off  with  you,"  says  he,  "  both  of  you  !  and  don't 
cross  my  path  a  second  time." 

The  merchant's  son  jumped  down,  made  off.  The 
cut- throat  started  to  ride  on,  but  the  kr(^stnik  still  de- 
tained him.     He  began  to  urge  him  to  reform  his  evil 


262  THE   GODSON. 

life.      The  cut- throat   stood   still,  heard   every  word, 
made  no  reply,  and  rode  off. 

The  next  morning  the  kr6stnik  went  to  water  his 
firebrands.  Behold!  the  second  one  had  sprouted  — 
another  apple-tree  is  growing. 


THE  GODSON.  263 


XIII. 

Passed  ten  years  more.  One  time  the  kr^stnik  is 
sitting  down,  no  one  comes  to  see  him :  he  has  no 
fear,  and  his  heart  is  glad  within  him.  And  the  kr^st- 
nik  thinks  to  himself,  ''What  blessings  men  receive 
from  God  !  but  they  torment  themselves  in  vain.  They 
ought  to  live  and  enjoy  their  lives." 

And  he  remembered  all  the  wickedness  of  men  —  how 
they  torment  themselves.     And  he  felt  sorry  for  men. 

*'  Here  I  am,"  he  thinks,  *'  living  idly.  I  must  go 
out  and  tell  people  what  I  know." 

Even  while  he  was  pondering,  he  listens  —  the  cut- 
throat is  coming.  He  was  about  to  let  him  pass  ;  and 
he  thinks,  — 

"  Whatever  I  say  to  him,  he  will  not  accept." 

This  was  his  first  thought ;  but  then  he  reconsidered 
it,  went  out  on  the  road.  The  cut-throat  is  riding  by 
in  moody  silence  :  his  eyes  are  on  the  ground. 

The  kr^stnik  gazed  at  him,  and  he  felt  sorry  for  him : 
he  drew  near  to  him,  seized  him  by  the  knee. 

"  Dear  brother,"  ^  says  he,  *'  have  pity  on  thine  own 
soul.  Lo !  the  Spirit  of  God  is  in  thee.  Thou  torment- 
est  thyself,  and  others  thou  tormentest ;  and  thou  wilt  be 
tormented  still  more  grievously.  But  God  loves  thee 
so !  With  what  bounty  has  he  blessed  thee !  Ruin 
not  thyself,  brother !  ^  change  thy  life." 

The  cut-throat  frowned :  he  turned  away. 

»  Brat  mUui,  »  Srdteti, 


264  THE  GODSON. 

"  Out  of  my  way !  "  says  he. 

The  kr^stnik  clutched  the  cut-throat's  knee  more 
firmly,  and  burst  into  tears. 

The  cut-throat  fastened  his  eyes  on  the  kr^stnik. 
He  looked,  he  looked,  dismounted  from  his  horse,  and 
fell  on  his  knees  before  the  krestnik. 

"  Thou  hast  conquered  me,  old  man,'*  ^  he  cries. 
"  Twenty  years  have  I  struggled  with  thee.  Thou  hast 
won  me  over.  I  have  henceforth  no  power  over  thee. 
Do  with  me  as  it  seems  to  thee  good.  When  thou 
speakedst  to  me  the  first  time,"  says  he,  "  I  only  did 
the  more  evil.  And  thy  words  made  an  impression 
on  me,  only  when  thou  wentest  away  from  men,  and 
1  learned  that  thou  didst  gain  no  advantage  from 
men." 

And  the  krestnik  remembered  that  the  baba  suc- 
ceeded in  cleaning  her  table  when  she  had  rinsed 
out  her  towel.  When  he  ceased  to  think  about  him- 
self, his  heart  was  purified,  and  he  began  to  purify  the 
hearts  of  others. 

And  the  cut-throat  said,  — 

"But  my  heart  was  changed  within  me,  only  when 
thou  didst  cease  to  fear  death." 

And  the  krestnik  remembered  that  the  hoopmakers  ^ 
only  succeeded  in  bending  their  hoops  after  they  had' 
fastened  their  block :  when  he  ceased  to  be  afraid  of 
death,  he  had  fastened  his  life  in  God,  and  a  disobedi- 
ent heart  became  obedient. 

And  the  cut-throat  said,  ■ — 

''  But  my  heart  melted  entirely,  only  when  thou  didst 
pity  me,  and  weep  before  me." 

The  krestnik  was  overjoyed  :  he  led  the  cut- throat  to 
the  place  where  the  firebrands  had  been. 

1  Stdrik.  2  Obodchiki,  from  obod,  a  felloe,  or  hoop. 


THE  GODSON.  265 

They  came  to  it,  but  out  of  the  last  firebrand  also 
an  apple-tree  had  sprung  ! 

And  the  kr^stnik  remembered  that  the  drovers*  damp 
wood  had  kindled  only  when  a  great  fire  was  built : 
when  his  own  heart  was  well  on  fire,  another's  took  fire 
from  it. 

And  the  kr^stnik  was  glad  because  now  he  had 
atoned  for  all  his  sins. 

He  told  all  this  to  the  cut-throat,  and  died.  The 
cut- throat  buried  him,  began  to  live  as  the  kr^stnik 
bade  him,  and  thus  taught  men. 


SKAZKA. 

1885. 

A  Story  about  Iv^  Tka£k  and  his  Two  Brothers,  —  Sem'yon-vom,  and 
Taras-bnukhan,  —  and  his  Dumb  Sister,  Malan'ya-v'yeko-ukha,  and 
abont  the  Old  DotU  and  the  Three  Little  Devils. 


In  a  certain  realm,  in  a  certain  state,  once  lived  a 
rich  muzhik.  And  the  rich  muzhik  had  three  sons,  — 
Sem'yon-the- warrior,  Taras-the-pot-bellied,  and  Ivan- 
the-fool,  —  and  a  deaf  and  dumb  daughter,  Maldn*ya- 
the-old-maid. 

Sem'yon-voin  went  to  war,  to  serve  the  tsar ;  Tdras- 
briukhan  went  to  the  city,  to  a  merchant,  to  engage  in 
trade;  but  IvAn-durak^  staid  at  home  with  the  girl, 
to  work,  and  grow  round-shouldered. 

Sem*y6n  won  high  rank  ^  and  an  estate,  and  married 
a  nobleman's  daughter.  His  income  was  large,  and 
his  estate  large,  and  yet  he  did  not  make  ends  meet : 

*  Throughout  this  skazka,  the  characteristic  epithets  of  the  muzhik's  fam- 
ily are,  for  the  most  part,  omitted  in  the  translation.  The  reader  will  have 
little  difficulty  in  supplying  them  mentally,  either  in  Russian  or  English.  It 
is  interesting  to  remember,  in  respect  to  this  tale,  that  it  embodies  Count 
Tolstoi's  most  radical  teaching;  and  Count  Tolstoi  himself  was  amazed  that 
the  censor  allowed  it  to  pass,  while  the  ecientific  expressiou  of  the  eamo 
doctrine  was  tabooed. 

»  Tchin. 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  267 

what  the  husband  gathers  in,  that  the  wife,  the  baruina, 
forever  squanders  with  lavish  hand  ;  never  any  money  ! 

And  Sem'yon  went  to  his  estate  to  collect  his  reve- 
nue.    And  the  steward  ^  says  to  him,  — 

'-''  No  way  of  getting  it :  we  have  neither  cattle  nor 
tools,  nor  horses  nor  cows,  nor  ploughs  nor  harrows. 
All  these  must  be  got:  then  there  will  be  an  income." 

And  Sem'yon  went  to  his  father. 

*'  Bdtiushka,'*  says  he,  ''  thou  art  rich ;  and  yet  thou 
hast  given  me  nothing.  Give  me  my  third,  and  I  will 
spend  it  on  my  estate." 

And  the  old  man  said,  — 

''  Thou  hast  brought  nothing  to  my  house  to  warrant 
my  giving  thee  a  third  part.  It  would  be  an  outrage 
on  Ivdn  and  the  girl." 

But  Sem'yon  says,  — 

''  Now,  look  here  :  ^  he  is  a  fool,  and  she  is  a  deaf  and 
dumb  old  maid  ;  they  need  nothing.'* 

And  the  starik  says,  — 

''Be  it  as  Ivdn  shall  say." 

But  Ivdn  says,  — 

''  Well,  then,»  let  him  have  it." 

Sem'yon  took  the  portion  from  home,  spent  it  on  his 
estate,  went  off  again  to  the  tsar,  to  serve  him. 

Tdras-briukhan  also  made  much  money :  he  married 
a  merchant's  widow,  but  still  he  had  not  enough.  He 
came  to  his  father,  and  says,  "  Give  me  my  portion." 

The  starik  was  unwilling  to  give  Taras  his  portion 
either.  "Thou,"  says  he,  "hast  brought  nothing 
to  us ;  but  what  is  in  the  house,  that  Ivan  has  saved. 
And  so  we  must  not  wrong  him  and  the  girl." 

But  Tdras  says,  "What  good  does  it  to  him?  he  is 
a  fool.     And  the  deaf  and  dumb  girl  doesn't  need  it 

»  Prikdahchik.  *  Da  v'yid.  »  m,  chto-eh. 


268  IVAN  THE  FOOL, 

either.  — Ivan,**  says  he,  "  give  me  half  the  grain,  —  I 
won't  take  the  tools,  —  and  of  the  live-stock  I  will  take 
only  the  gray  stallion :  he's  no  good  to  thee  in  plough- 
ing." 

Ivdn  laughed,  and  then  says,  *'A11  right  :^  I  will 
start  anew." 

Tdras  was  given  his  share.  Tdras  took  the  grain  to 
the  city :  he  took  the  gray  stallion  ;  and  Ivdn  was  left 
with  one  antiquated  mare,  to  toil  like  a  peasant,^  as 
before,  to  support  his  father  and  mother. 

»  yu  ehto-eh.  *  KresVydnstoomV, 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  269 


n. 


The  old  Devil  was  wroth  because  the  brothers  had 
not  quarrelled  over  the  division,  but  had  parted  ami- 
cably ;  and  he  called  three  devilkins. 

'*  Look  here,"  says  he :  ''  there  live  three  brothers, 
Sem'yon,  Tdras,  and  Ivan.  They  all  ought  to  be 
quarrelling,  but  they  live  peaceably:  they  visit  each 
other.^  The  fool  has  ruined  the  whole  business  for 
me.  You  three  just  go.  Take  good  note  of  those 
three,  and  stir  them  up,  so  that  they  will  scratch  each 
other's  eyes  out.     Can  you  do  this?  " 

''We  can,"  they  say. 

''How  will  you  do  it?*' 

"  Well,  we  shall  do  it  this  way :  first,  we'll  ruin  them, 
so  that  they'll  have  nothing  to  eat,  and  then  throw 
them  all  together ;  and  they  will  fall  to  fighting." 

"  Now,  that's  capital,"  says  he.  "I  see  you  know 
your  business.  Make  haste,  and  return  not  to  me  until 
you  have  stiiTcd  the  three  all  up,  otherwise  I'll  take  the 
hide  of  all  three  of  you." 

The  devilkins  all  went  to  a  bog,  began  to  plan  how 
to  undertake  their  task.  They  wrangled,  wrangled: 
each  one  wishes  to  do  the  work  in  the  easiest  way ; 
and  they  decided  to  cast  lots  for  the  one  whom  each 
should  take,  but  that,  if  any  of  them  accomplishes 
his  work  before  the  others,  he  should  come  to  the  aid 
of  the  others.     The  devilkins  cast  lots,  and  fixed  upon 

.    >  Literally,  they  exchange  bread-salt  with  each  other. 


270  IVAN  TEE  FOOL. 

a  time  to  meet  again  in  the  bog,  to  learn  who  had  suc- 
ceeded, and  who  needed  help. 

The  time  appointed  came,  and  the  devilkins  met  in 
the  bog  according  to  agreement.  They  began  to  de- 
scribe how  things  had  gone  with  them.  The  first 
devilkin  began  to  tell  about  Sem'yon-voin. 

"  My  work,"  ^  says  he,  "  is  getting  along  well.  To- 
morrow," says  he,  *'my  Sem'yon  is  going  to  his 
father." 

His  mates  began  to  ask,  "  How,"  say  they,  ''  didst 
thou  bring  it  about?  " 

''  Well,"  says  he,  ''in  the  first  place,  I  made  Sem'- 
yon so  brave  that  he  promised  his  tsar  to  conquer  the 
whole  world  ;  and  the  tsar  made  Sem'yon  leader,  sent 
him  to  conquer  the  tsar  of  India.  They  met  for  battle. 
That  very  night  I  wet  all  the  powder  in  Sem'yon 's 
army,  and  I  went  to  the  tsar  of  India.  I  made  a 
boundless  multitude  of  soldiers  of  straw.  Sem'yon's 
soldiers  saw  that  the  straw  soldiers  were  coming  down 
upon  them  from  all  sides  :  they  were  scared.  Sem'yon 
ordered  them  to  fire  :  their  cannon  and  guns  did  not  go 
off.  Sem'yon's  soldiers  were  panic-struck,  and  fled 
like  sheep  ;  and  the  tsar  of  India  beat  them.  Sem'yon 
was  disgraced  :  they  confiscated  his  estate,  and  to-mor- 
row they  intend  to  execute  him.  But  I  have  business 
with  him  for  a  da3^  I  took  him  out  of  jail,  so  that  he 
might  run  home.  To-morrow  I  shall  finish  with  him  : 
so  tell  us  which  of  you  two  needs  help." 

And  the  second  devilkin,  from  Taras,  began  to  tell 
about  his  affairs.  *'  I  need  no  help,'*  says  he  :  "  my 
task  also  has  gone  smoothly,  and  Tdras  will  not  live 
more  than  a  week.  In  the  first  place,"  says  he,  ''I 
caused  his  belly  to  grow,  and  filled  him  with  envy.     So 

1  Dyelo,  deed,  affair,  work. 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  271 

great  has  become  his  envy  of  others*  goods,  that  he 
wishes  to  buy  every  thing  that  he  sees.  He  has  spent 
all  his  money  on  a  host  of  things,  and  still  he  keeps 
on  buying.  Now  he  has  already  begun  to  buy  on  credit. 
He's  already  hung  a  great  debt  round  his  neck,  and 
he  has  entangled  himself  so  that  he  can't  get  out  of 
the  tangle.  At  the  end  of  a  week  his  obligations  will 
fall  due,  and  I  shall  make  rubbish  of  all  of  his  wares. 
—  He  won't  be  able  to  pay,  and  he  will  go  to  his 
father." 

They  turned  now  to  ask  the  third  devilkin  about 
Ivdn. 

**•  Well,  how  about  your  affair?  '* 

*'  The  truth  is,"  ^  says  he,  "  my  affair  does  not  pros- 
per. In  the  first  place,  I  spit  into  his  pitcher  of  kvas, 
so  as  to  give  him  the  belly-ache ;  and  I  went  to  his 
field,  stamped  the  ground  hard  as  a  stone,  so  that  he 
might  not  prevail  against  it.  I  thought  that  he  would 
not  plough  it ;  but  he,  the  fool,^  came  with  his  sokha, 
began  to  work  at  it.  His  belly-ache  makes  him  groan, 
but  he  ploughs  all  the  same.  I  broke  one  plough  for 
him  :  he  went  home,  exchanged  it  for  another,  bound 
on  new  withs,^  and  took  up  his  ploughing  again.  I 
crept  under  the  soil,  began  to  hold  back  his  plough- 
shares :  you  couldn't  hold  them  back  at  all.  He  lays 
out  all  his  strength  on  the  sokhd,  and  the  ploughshares 
are  sharp.  I  cut  my  hands  all  up.  He  ploughed 
almost  the  whole  ;  only  one  little  strip  was  left. 
Come,"  says  he,  ''  brothers,  to  my  aid  ;  for  if  we  don't 

1  Da  chto.  8  Durdk. 

8  Podvoi:  these  twisted  withs  are  used  to  fasten  the  obzhiy  or  plough-tail, 
to  the  razsokha,  or  wooden  cross-piece  of  the  plough.  The  plough-foot  is 
called  the  pdloz,  and  the  double  iron  share  the  soahnik.  The  Russians  have 
also  the  word  plough,  pfug:  it  is  a  moot  question  whether  it  is  a  pure  Sia- 
vouic  word,  or  borrowed  from  the  West. 


272  IVAN  TEE  FOOL. 

get  the  better  of  him,  all  our  labor  will  be  lost.  If  the 
fool  is  left,  and  is  going  to  farm  it,^  they  won't  know 
want :  he  will  support  both  his  brothers." 

Sera'j-on's  clevilkin  promised  to  come  to  his  aid  the 
next  day,  and  the  devilkius  parted. 

*  Eresty'dnstvovaC 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  273 


III. 

Ivan  had  ploughed  the  whole  fallow :  only  one  nar- 
row strip  remained.  He  went  out  to  finish  ploughing. 
His  belly  aches,  but  he  must  plough.  He  cracked  his 
whip,  turned  over  his  sokhd,  and  proceeded  to  plough. 
He  had  only  gone  over  it  once,  was  coming  back,  when 
it  seemed  to  catch  on  a  root,  pulls  back.  Now,  this 
was  the  devilkin,  who  suddenly  wound  his  legs  around 
the  double  ploughshare  ;  pulls  on  it. 

"What  a  strange  thing!"  thinks  Ivdn.  ''There 
were  no  roots  here,  but  here's  a  root." 

Ivdn  put  his  hand  down  into  the  furrow,  felt  some- 
thing soft.     He  clutched  it,  brought  it  out. 

It  is  black,  like  a  root ;  but  on  the  root,  something 
moves.     Lo !  a  live  devilkin  ! 

"  Hey,  there,"  *  says  he,  ''  what  a  nasty  thing !  " 

Ivdn  lifted  up  his  hand,  was  going  to  kill  him  with  a 
blow  on  the  head,  when  the  devilkin  began  to  whine. 

"  Don't  strike  me,"  says  he,  "  but  I  will  do  for  thee 
whatsoever  thou  wishest.'* 

*' What'lt  thou  do  for  me?  " 

*'  Only  tell  me  what  thou  wishest." 

Ivdn  scratched  his  head.  ''  My  belly  aches,"  says 
he  :  ''  canst  thou  cure  it?  " 

"  I  can,"  says  he. 

''Allriglit,^  doit." 

The  devilkin  bent  down  to  the  furrow;  scratched 

1  lah  tui  I  a  Nu. 


274  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

about,  scratched  about  with  his  claws  ;  clutched  a  little 
root,  —  a  triple  root,  —  gave  it  to  Ivdn. 

''  Here,"  says  he  :  "  whoever  swallows  this  one  little 
root,  every  pain  will  disappear." 

Ivdn  took  it,  broke  off  the  little  root,  swallowed  it. 
Immediately  his  belly  [ache]  went  away. 

Again  the  devilkin  said,  ''  Let  me  go  now,"  says  he. 
'*  I  will  dive  into  the  earth  :  I  will  never  come  again." 

*'  All  right.^  God  be  with  thee."  And  the  moment 
Ivdn  spoke  of  God,  the  devilkin  plunged  suddenly 
under  the  earth,  like  a  stone  in  the  water:  only  the 
hole  was  left. 

Ivdn  put  the  two  other  little  roots  into  his  shapka, 
and  went  on  with  his  ploughing.  He  ploughed  the  strip 
to  the  end,  turned  over  the  sokhd,  and  went  home. 
He  unharnessed,  went  into  the  izbd,  and  his  elder 
brother  Sem'yon  and  his  wife  are  sitting  at  supper. 
His  estate  had  been  confiscated:  he  had  broken  out 
of  prison,  and  had  hurried  home  to  live  with  his  father. 

Sem'yon  saw  Ivdn  :  "I  have  come,"  says  he,  ''to 
live  with  thee.  Feed  me  and  my  wife  until  we  find  a 
new  place." 

*'  All  right,"  says  he  ;  "  live  here." 

As  soon  as  Ivdn  sat  down  on  the  bench,  the  odor^ 
from  Ivdn  displeased  the  baruina.  She  even  says  to 
her  husband, — 

*'  I  cannot  endure,"  says  she,  ''  to  eat  with  a  stink- 
ing muzhik." 

And  Sem'yon  says,  ''  My  baruina  says  the  odor  from 
thee  is  not  pleasant :  thou  hadst  better  eat  in  the  entry." 

"  All  right,"  ^  says  he :  "  it's  about  my  bedtime  — 
must  feed  the  mare." 

Ivdn  took  bread  and  his  kaftan,  and  went  for  the 
night. 

1  Jfii  cMo-sh. 


IVAN   TEE  FOOL.  275 


IV. 


That  night  Sem'y6n*s  devilkin  left  him,  and  went, 
according  to  agreement,  to  find  Ivdn's  devilkin,  to  help 
him  subdue  the  fool. 

He  came  to  the  fallow  ;  sought,  sought  for  his  chum 

—  no  [sign  of  him]  anywhere  —  he  only  found  a  hole. 
'^  Well,"  he  thinks,  ''  some  ill  has  certainl}^  befallen 

my  chum.  I  must  take  his  place.  The  fallow  has 
been  all  ploughed.  I  shall  have  to  subdue  the  fool  in 
his  hayfield.'* 

The  devilkin  went  to  the  meadow,  let  in  a  flood  over 
Ivdn's  grass :  all  the  hayfield  was  matted  with  mud. 
Ivdn  turned  out  of  bed  at  dawn,  whetted  his  scythe, 
went  to  mow  the  meadow. 

Ivdn  went  out ;  began  to  mow.  He  swings  it  once  — 
he  swings  it  twice  —  the  scythe  is  blunted  ;  doesn't  cut 

—  he  has  to  sharpen  it.  Ivan  struggled,  struggled. 
"  No,"  says  he,  ''  I  am  going  home  to  get  a  whetstone 
and  a  slice  of  bread.  Though  I  have  to  work  a  week,  I 
won't  give  in  till  I  mow  it  all." 

The  devilkin  was  listening:  he  said  to  himself, 
''  This  fool  is  a  tough  one :  thou'lt  not  get  him 
[this  way].  Some  other  trick  must  be  devised  for 
him." 

Ivdn  went,  sharpened  his  scythe,  began  to  mow. 
The  devilkin  crept  into  the  grass,  managed  to  catch 
the  scythe  by  the  heel,  to  thrust  the  point  into  the 
ground.    It  was  hard  for  Ivdn,  yet  he  kept  on  with  his 


276  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

mowing :  there  remained  only  one  patch ^  in  the  marsh. 
The  devilkin  crept  into  the  marsh ;  thinks  to  himself, 
"Though  I  cut  my  paws  in  pieces,  still  I  will  not  let 
him  mow." 

Ivdn  came  to  the  marsh :  the  grass  to  look  at  is  not 
thick,  but  it  resists  the  scythe.  Ivan  grew  angry,  be- 
gan to  mow  with  all  his  might :  the  devilkin  had  to 
give  it  up — he  hasn't  time  to  leap  away,  he  sees  it  is  a 
bad  busmess,  he  jumped  mto  a  bush.  Ivdn  was  swing- 
ing his  scythe,  grazed  the  bush,  clipped  off  half  of  the 
devilkin' s  tail.  Ivan  finished  mowing  his  field,  bade 
the  d'y^vka  ^  rake  it  up,  and  went  off  to  mow  the  rye. 

He  went  out  with  his  sickle,  but  the  curtailed  devil- 
kin was  there  before  him ;  had  tangled  up  the  rye,  so 
that  it  gave  no  chance  for  the  sickle.  Ivdn  turned 
round,  took  his  sickle-hook,  and  set  about  reaping  :  he 
reaped  all  the  lye. 

*' Well,  now,"  says  he,  "I  must  take  hold  of  the 
oats." 

The  curtailed  devilkin  was  listening :  he  thinks,  ''I 
did  not  catch  him  on  the  rye,  so  I  must  catch  him  on 
the  oats  ;  just  wait  till  morning." 

The  devilkin  hurried  out  in  the  morning  to  the  oat- 
field,  but  the  oats  were  already  harvested.  Ivan  had 
reaped  it  by  night,  so  that  less  might  shake  out.  The 
devilkin  was  enraged.  "The  cursed  fool,"  says  he, 
"  has  hacked  me  and  tortured  me  !  I  never  saw  such 
ill  luck,  even  in  war.  He  does  not  sleep :  3'ou  won't 
get  ahead  of  him.  I  am  going  now,"  says  he,  "to 
the  heaps  of  grain:  I  will  rot  them  all  through  for 
him." 

And  the  devilkin  went  to  the  heaps  of  rye  :  he  crept 

1  BeVydnka,  generally  a  clearing  in  the  woods, 
s  An  unmarried  girl :  here  the  old  maid  Malan'ysu 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  277 

among  the  sheaves,  began  to  affect  them  with  rot. 
He  heated  them,  and  got  warm  himself,  and  grew 
drowsy. 

But  Ivdn  harnessed  the  mare,  and  went  with  the 
d'y^vka  to  get  them.  They  came  to  the  heap,  began 
to  pitch  them  up  ;  he  had  pitched  up  two  bundles  :  he 
thrust  in  his  fork,  struck  the  devilkin  straight  in  the 
back ;  lo !  on  the  prongs  was  the  devilkin  alive ;  yea, 
verily,  with  his  tail  cut  short,  is  sprawling,  making 
wry  faces,  trying  to  wriggle  off. 

"Hallo,  there!"  says  he:  "what  a  nasty  thing! 
Art  thou  here  again?  " 

"I,"  sa3's  he,  "am  another  one:  that  was  my 
brother.     But  I  belong  to  your  brother  Sem'yon." 

"Well,"  says  [Ivdn],  "whoever  thou  art,  it's  all 
up  with  thee."  He  was  just  going  to  impale  him  on 
a  stake,  but  the  devilkin  began  to  beseech  him. 

"  Well,  what  can  you  do?  " 

"Well,"  says  he,  "I  can  make  soldiers  out  of 
any  thing  that  thou  pleasest." 

"  But  what  are  they  good  for?  " 

"  Set  them  at  doing  any  thing  that  thou  wishest," 
says  he.     "  They  can  do  all  things." 

"  Can  they  play  songs?  " 

"They  can." 

"  All  right,"  ^  says  [Ivdn]  :  "  make  some.*' 

And  the  devilkin  told  him,  — 

"  Here,  take  this  sheaf  of  rye ;  scatter  it  over  the 
ground  with  the  grain,  and  merely  say,  '  'Tis  my 
slave's  decree,  that  thou  shalt  be  a  sheaf  no  more. 
But  for  every  straw  that  there  is  in  thee,  a  soldier 
be.'  " 

Ivdn  took  the  sheaf,  scattered  it  over  the  ground, 

»  If'u  chto-thi 


278  IVAN  THE  FOOL, 

and  repeated  what  the  devilkin  bade  him  say.  And 
the  sheaf  flew  apart,  and  soldiers  were  created,  and  the 
drummer  and  the  trumpeter  playing  at  their  head. 
Ivdn  burst  out  laug^hinof. 

''  Hallo  !  "  ^  says  he,  "  how  clever !  That's  good,'* 
says  he:  ''it'll  amuse  the  d'y^vka." 

"  Well,'*  says  the  devilkin,  "  let  me  go  now." 

*'  No,"  saj's  he  :  "  I  am  going  to  make  them  out  of 
chaff,  for  it's  no  use  wasting  good  seed.  Show  me  how 
to  change  them  back  to  the  sheaf  again.  I'm  going 
to  thresh  it." 

And  the  devilkin  says,  "  Repeat,  '  For  every  soldier, 
be  a  straw.  'Tis  my  slave's  decree,  that  a  sheaf 
thou  be.'  " 

Ivdn  thus  said,  and  again  it  became  a  sheaf.  And 
again  the  devilkin  began  to  plead :  "  Let  me  go  now," 
says  he. 

"All  right!  "2  Ivdn  seized  him  b}^  the  legs,  held 
him  in  his  hand,  and  pulled  him  from  the  tines. 

"  God  be  with  you  !  "  says  [Ivdn]  ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  said  "s  Bdgom,*'  the  devilkin  plunged  into  the 
earth  like  a  stone  in  water:  only  the  hole  was 
left. 

Ivan  went  home ;  and  at  home  he  found  his  other 
brother,  Tdras,  and  his  wife,  sitting  down  to  supper. 
Taras  had  not  paid  his  debts,  had  fled  from  his  credit- 
ors, and  come  to  his  father.     He  saw  Ivdn. 

"Well,"^  says  he,  "now  that  I'm  dead  broke, 
feed  me  and  my  wife." 

"  All  right,"  says  he  :  "  stay  with  us." 

Ivan  took  off  his  kaftan,  sat  down  at  table. 

But  the  merchant's  wife  says,  "I,"  says  she, 
"  can't  eat  with  a  fool.     He  smells  of  perspiration  !  " 

1  Jsh  tui.  2  2^u  chto-zhl  8  Nv.  I 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  279 

Taras  also  says,  "The  odor  from  thee,  Ivdn,  is  not 
pleasant:  go  and  eat  in  the  entry.'* 

*'Well,  all  right,"  ^  says  he;  took  bread,  went  out 
to  the  dvor.  "It's  about  my  bedtime,  anyway;  — 
must  feed  the  mare." 

^  Jfii  chiO'Uh  I 


280  IVAN   THE  FOOL. 


V. 


That  night  Tdras's  devilkin  left  him  also,  — came, 
according  to  agreement,  to  help  his  chums  to  get  the 
better  of  Ivdn-durdk.  He  came  to  the  fallow :  he 
hunted,  hunted  for  his  chums.  No  sign  of  them  any- 
where :  he  found  only  a  hole.  He  came  to  the  meadow  : 
in  the  swamp  he  found  the  tail,  and  in  the  rye-stubble 
field  he  found  the  other  hole.  *'Well,"  he  thinks, 
"  some  ill  must  have  befallen  my  chums.  I  must  take 
their  place  in  order  to  catch  the  fool." 

The  devilkin  went  to  find  Iv^n.  But  Ivdn  had 
already  left  the  field  for  the  forest,  to  cut  wood. 

It  had  become  difficult  for  the  brothers  to  live  to- 
gether. They  bade  the  fool  prepare  lumber ;  build 
them  new  houses. 

The  devilkin  hastened  to  the  forest,  crept  into  the 
knots,  began  to  hinder  Ivdn  from  falling  the  trees. 
Ivdn  under-cut  the  tree  in  the  right  way  for  it  to  fall  in 
a  clear  space  :  he  began  to  fall  it.  The  mischief  got 
into  the  tree  :  it  fell  where  it  ought  not,  became  entan- 
gled in  the  branches. 

Ivdn  got  his  cant-dog,  began  to  free  the  tree,  at  last 
brought  it  to  the  ground.  Ivdn  tried  to  fall  another : 
again  the  same  thing.  He  struggled,  struggled  ;  barely 
succeeded.  He  took  hold  of  a  third  :  again  the  same. 
Ivdn  had  expected  to  hew  down  a  half-hundred  logs, 
and  he  had  not  hewed  down  ten ;  and  it  was  already 
night  in  the  dvor,  and  Ivdn  was  tired  to  death.     The 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  281 

steam  arose  from  him,  spread  through  the  forest  like 
a  fog ;  but  still  he  does  not  quit.  He  under-cuts  still 
another  tree :  his  back  was  almost  broken  ;  and  as  he 
had  no  more  strength,  he  drove  the  axe  into  the  tree, 
and  sat  down  to  rest. 

The  devilkin  perceived  that  Ivdn  was  quiet :  he 
rejoiced. 

''  Well,**  ^  he  thinks,  ''  he  is  quite  beat  out :  he  has 
quitted.     I,  too,  will  rest  now." 

He  sat  astride  of  a  limb,  and  exults.  But  Ivdn  got 
up,  pulled  out  the  axe,  flourished  it ;  but  as  he  hacks 
on  the  other  side,  the  tree  all  at  once  began  to  crack ; 
fell  heavily.  The  devilkin  did  not  notice,  had  no  time 
to  get  his  leg  out  of  the  way :  the  limb  broke,  and 
nipped  the  devilkin  by  the  paw.  Ivdn  began  to  clear 
up.  Lo !  a  live  devilkin  !  Ivdn  was  amazed.  "  Hal- 
lo !"  ^  says  he,  ''what  a  nasty  thing!  thou  here 
again?*' 

"  I  am  another  one,**  says  he  :  "I  have  been  at  thy 
brother  Tdras's.'* 

"  Well,^  whoever  thou  art,  it  will  be  all  the  same 
with  thee.*'  Ivdn  flourished  his  axe,  was  about  to  rap 
him  with  the  axe-head. 

The  devilkin  begged  for  mercy.  "  Don't  strike  me, 
and  I  will  do  for  thee  whatever  thou  wishest.** 

"  Well,  then,  what  canst  thou  do?  '* 

"1  can  make  thee  as  much  money,"  says  he,  "as 
thou  wishest." 

"  All  right,"  ^  says  he  ;  "  do  so :  "  and  the  devilkin 
began  to  teach  him. 

''  Take  some  oak-leaves  from  this  oak,  and  rub  them 
in  thy  hands.     Gold  will  fall  to  the  ground." 

Ivdn  took  the  leaves,  rubbed  them  :  gold  fell  down. 

^  Nu!  »  l8h  tui  !  8  Ku  chto-zh  I 


282  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

'' This  is  good,"  says  he,  ''to  amuse  children  with, 
when  I  have  time." 

"  Let  me  go,"  says  the  devilkin. 

"All  right!  "^  Ivdn  took  his  cant-dog,  set  the 
devilkin  free.  '•'•  God  be  with  thee !  "  says  he  ;  and  as 
soon  as  he  said  the  words  "  Bog  s  toh&i^^^  the  devilkin 
plunged  under  the  earth,  like  a  stone  into  the  water: 
only  the  hole  was  left. 

1  Nu  chto-zh  I 


IVAN   TEE  FOOL.  283 


VI. 


The  brothers  built  houses,  and  began  to  live  apart. 
But  Ivdn  got  in  his  crops,  brewed  beer,  and  invited 
his  brothers  to  a  revel.  The  brothers  came  not  as 
Ivdn's  guests.  "We  have  never  been  to  a  peasant 
revel,"  they  say. 

Ivdn  played  host  to  the  muzhiks,  the  babas  ;  and  he 
himself  drank  to  excess ;  began  to  get  tipsy,  and 
went  up  the  street  to  the  singers.^  Ivdn  went  up  to 
the  singers,  and  bade  the  babas  sing  his  praises. 

*'I  will  give  you,"  says  he,  ''what  you  never  saw 
in  your  lives  before."  The  babas  laughed,  and  began 
to  sing  his  praises.  They  iSnished  their  song  and 
dance  in  his  praise,  and  said,  — 

"  Now,  then,^  give  [it  to  us]." 

"I  will  bring  it  to  you  right  away,"  says  he.  He 
took  his  corn-planter,  hastened  out  to  the  forest.  The 
babas  make  sport  of  him.  ''  What  a  fool !  "  And 
they  forgot  all  about  him. 

Lo !  Ivdn  comes  running  back,  brings  his  corn- 
planter  fall  of  something.  ''  [Shall  I]  distribute  it, 
or  not?  " 

"Distribute  it!  " 

Ivdn  caught  up  a  handful  of  gold,  and  flung  it 
among  the  babas.  Bdtiushki !  The  babas  sprang  to 
pick  it  up :  the  muzhiks  sprang  after  it  —  they  each 

*  Khorovodui  :  the  band,  or  ulitsa,  of  village  lads  and  lasses,  who  dance 
and  sing  at  festivals. 
2  Nu  ddo-zh. 


284  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

tried  to  snatch  it  from  the  other  —  they  carry  it  off. 
One  old  woman  they  almost  crush  to  death.  Ivdn 
burst  out  laughing. 

"  Akh,  you  fools  ! "  says  he,  "  why  have  you  crushed 
the  bdbushka?  Don't  go  so  fast,  and  I  will  give  you 
more." 

He  began  to  scatter  more.  The  people  crowded 
around :  Ivdn  emptied  his  whole  corn-planter.  They 
began  to  beg  for  more.     But  Ivan  said,  — 

''  That's  all :  another  time  I'll  give  3'ou  some  more. 
Now  give  us  a  dance.     Sing  us  your  songs !  " 

The  babas  began  to  sing  their  songs.  "Your 
songs,"  says  he,  "aren't  good." 

"  What  kind  of  ones,"  say  they,  "  are  better?  " 

"  Well,  I'll  show  you,"  says  he,  "  in  a  little  while." 
He  went  to  the  barn,  pulled  out  a  sheaf,  threshed  it, 
scattered  it  around,  pounded  it. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  slave,  now  decree  that  it  shall 
be  a  sheaf  no  more,  but  every  straw  a  soldier."  ^ 

The  sheaf  sprang  apart,  the  soldiers  stood  forth,  the 
drums,  trumpets,  played.  Ivdn  commanded  the  soldiers 
to  sing  some  songs :  he  came  with  them  up  the  street. 
The  people  were  amazed.  The  soldiers  sang  their 
songs ;  and  Ivdn  led  them  back  to  the  barn  (but  he 
commanded  that  no  one  should  follow  him),  and  turned 
the  soldiers  into  a  sheaf  again,  flung  it  on  the  pile. 
He  went  home,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  kennel. 

1  "ScfytldH  kholop 
Chtob  bull  n'ye  snop 
A  kdzhdaya  solomnika  —  solddi." 


IVAN   THE  FOOL.  285 


VII. 

In  the  morning  the  elder  brother,  Sem*y6n,  heard 
about  these  doings,  came  to  Ivdn. 

"Show  me,"  says  he,  "where  thou  hast  found 
soldiers,  and  whither  thou  hast  taken  them." 

"  But  what  good,"  says  he,  "  will  it  do  thee?  " 

"Why  dost  thou  ask?  With  soldiers,  every  thing 
can  be  done.     One  can  win  a  kingdom  for  one's  self." 

Ivan  was  amazed.  ' '  Really  ?  "  ^  says  he  :  "  why  didst 
thou  not  say  so  long  ago  ?  I  will  make  thee  as  many 
as  thou  wishest.  It's  well  the  d'y^vka  and  I  put  aside 
a  good  many." 

Ivan  took  his  brother  to  the  barn,  and  says,  "  Look, 
I  am  going  to  make  them  ;  but  do  tliou  lead  them  away, 
for,  if  we  have  to  feed  them,  then  they  will  ruin  the 
whole  village  in  a  day." 

Sem'yon  promised  to  lead  the  soldiers  away,  and 
Ivdn  began  to  make  them.  He  thumps  a  sheaf  on  the 
barn-floor  —  a  squad  !  He  thumps  another  —  another 
squad.  He  made  so  many  of  them  that  they  filled  the 
whole  field. 

"  Well,  will  tliat  be  enough?  " 

Sem'yon  was  %  delighted,  and  says,  "That'll  be 
enough.     Thanks,  Ivdn." 

"  All  right,"  ^  says  he  :  "if  thou  needest  any  more, 
come  back,  and  I  will  make  some  more.  We  have  a 
great  deal  of  straw  to-day." 

^Jfu.  »  TO'to. 


286  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

Sem'yon  immediately  gave  orders  to  his  army,  drew 
them  up  in  proper  order,  and  went  off  to  make  war. 

Sem'yon  had  not  more  than  gone  when  Taras  makes 
his  appearance  —  he  also  had  heard  of  yesterday's 
doings  —  began  to  beg  his  brother,  ' '  Show  me  where 
thou  gettest  gold  mone3%  If  I  had  such  an  abundance 
of  money,  I  would  with  that  money  get  in  money  from 
all  over  the  world." 

Ivdn  was  amazed. 

''  Really?  Thou  shouldst  have  told  me  long  ago.  I 
will  rub  thee  out  as  much  as  thou  wishest." 

His  brother  was  delighted.  '*  Give  me  only  three 
planterfuls.'* 

*'  All  right,"  says  he,  "  let  us  go  to  the  woods  ;  but 
put  in  the  horse  —  it'll  be  too  much  for  thee  to  lug." 

They  went  to  the  forest :  Ivdn  began  to  rub  the  oak- 
leaves.     He  made  a  great  heap. 

*'  Is  that  enough,  or  not?  " 

Tdras  was  delighted. 

"  Enough  for  now,"  says  he.     "  Thanks,  Ivdn." 

"All  right,"  says  he.  "If  thou  hast  need,  come, 
I  will  rub  some  more  for  thee :  a  good  many  leaves 
are  left." 

T^ras  gathered  up  a  whole  cartful,  and  went  off  to 
trade. 

Both  brothers  went  off.  And  Sem'yon  began  to 
make  war,  but  Tdras  to  trade.  And  Sem'yon  con- 
quered for  himself  a  tsardom,  and  Taras  made  a  vast 
heap  of  money  in  trade. 

The  brothers  came  together,  and  revealed  to  each 
other  whence  Sem'yon  got  his  soldiers,  and  Tdras  his 
money . 

And  Sem'yon  says  to  his  brother,  "I,"  says  he, 
"  have  conquered  for  myself  a  tsardom ;  and  I  might 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  287 

live  well,  only  —  I  have  not  enough  money  to  support 
my  soldiers." 

And  Taras  says,  "  And  I,"  says  he,  '*  have  gathered 
together  a  great  heap  of  money:  but,"  says  he, 
''  there's  one  trouble ;  there  is  no  one  to  guard  my 
money." 

And  Sem*y6n  says,  ''  Let  us  go,"  says  he,  *'  to  our 
brother.  I  will  bid  him  make  some  more  soldiers  —  I 
will  give  thee  enough  to  guard  thy  money,  but  thou 
must  bid  him  rub  enough  money  for  me  to  sustain  my 
soldiers." 

And  they  went  to  lA^an. 

They  come  to  Ivdn :  and  Sem'yon  says,  "  My  sol- 
diers are  too  few,  brother,"  says  he;  "make  me 
some  more  soldiers,  change  at  least  two  ricks  into 
soldiers." 

Ivdn  shook  his  head.  "  No  use,"  says  he :  "I  am 
not  going  to  make  thee  any  more  soldiers." 

"  But  how  is  that?  "  says  he  :  "  thou  madest  me  a 
promise." 

"  I  made  a  promise,"  says  he,  "  but  I  will  not  make 
any  more." 

"  But  why,  thou  fool,  wilt  thou  make  no  more?  " 

"  Well,  because  thy  soldiers  have  put  a  man  to  death. 
The  other  day  I  was  ploughing  by  the  road :  I  see  a 
baba  carr3'ing  along  the  road  a  coffin,  and  she  herself 
is  wailing.  I  asked  her,  'Who  is  dead?'  She  says, 
'  Sem'3^6n's  soldiers  have  killed  my  husband  in  war.' 
I  thought  that  soldiers  were  for  singing  songs,  but 
they  have  put  a  man  to  death.  I  will  give  thee  no 
more."  And  thus  he  persisted,  and  refused  to  make 
any  more  soldiers. 

Tdras  now  began  to  implore  Ivan  to  make  some 
more  golden  money  for  him. 


288  IVAN   THE  FOOL. 

IvAn  shook  his  head.  "  No  use,"  says  he :  "I  will 
not  rub  any  more." 

'^  Well,  but  how  is  this?"  says  he:  ''thou  hast 
made  me  a  promise.' ' 

"  I  promised,"  says  he,  "but  I  will  not  make  any 
more." 

"  But  why,  thou  fool,  wilt  thou  not  make  any 
more?" 

"  Well,  because  thy  gold-pieces  have  robbed  Mikhdil- 
ovna  of  her  cow  ! ' ' 

"  How  have  thej^  robbed  her?  " 

"In  this  way  they  have  robbed  her:  Mikhdilovna 
had  a  cow,  her  children  ate  milk ;  but  lately  her  chil- 
dren have  come  to  me  to  beg  milk.  And  I  say  to 
them,  '  Where  is  your  cow  ?  '  They  say,  '  Tdras-briuk- 
han's  overseer^  came  along,  gave  our  mdmushka 
three  gold-pieces,  and  she  let  him  have  the  cow :  now 
we  have  no  milk  to  eat.'  I  thought  that  thou  didst 
want  to  play  with  the  gold-pieces,  but  thou  hast  robbed 
the  children  of  their  cow  :  I  will  not  give  any  more." 
And  the  fool  was  firm,  gave  no  more.  And  so  the 
brothers  went  away. 

The  brothers  went  away,  and  began  to  plan  how  to 
help  their  misfortune.  Sem'3'6n  says,  "See  here,  this 
is  what  we'll  do.  Give  thou  me  money  to  maintain 
my  soldiers,  and  I  will  give  thee  half  my  tsardom,  with 
soldiers  to  guard  thy  money."  Taras  agreed.  The 
brothers  went  shares,  and  both  became  tsars,  and  both 
rich. 

»  Prikdshchik. 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  289 


VIII. 

But  Ivan  lived  at  home,  supported  his  father  and 
mother,  worked  with  the  deaf  and  dumb  d'yevka  in 
the  field. 

Now,  it  happened  once  that  Ivan's  old  watch-dog  ^  fell 
sick,  became  mangy,  began  to  die.  Ivdn  was  sorry  for 
him ;  got  some  bread  from  his  deaf  and  dumb  sister, 
laid  it  in  his  shapka,  took  it  to  the  dog,  threw  it  to 
him.  But  the  cap  was  torn,  and  there  fell  with  the 
bread  one  little  root. 

The  old  dog  swallowed  it  with  the  bread.  And  as 
soon  as  the  dog  had  swallowed  the  root,  he  jumped 
up,  began  to  frisk  around,  to  bark,  to  wag  his  tail  — 
get  well. 

The  father  and  mother  saw  this  :  they  were  amazed. 
"  How,"  say  they,  "  didst  thou  cure  the  dog?  " 

And  Ivdn  says,  "  I  had  two  little  roots,  —  they  will 
cure  any  disease,  —  and  the  dog  swallowed  one  of 
them." 

And  it  happened  about  this  time  that  a  tsar's  daugh- 
ter fell  ill :  and  the  tsar  published  through  all  cities 
and  towns,  that  whoever  should  cure  her  should  be  re- 
warded ;  and  if  he  were  unmarried,  that  he  should 
receive,  in  addition,  the  tsar's  daughter  in  marriage. 
The  proclamation  was  made  also  in  Ivdn's  village. 

Ivdn's  father  and  mother  called  him  in,  and  say  to 
him,  "  Hast  thou  heard  what  the  tsar  proclaims?   Thou 

1  Sobdka  dvdrnaya. 


290  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

hast  said  that  thou  hast  the  little  root :  make  haste, 
cure  the  tsar's  daughter.  Thou  wilt  win  everlasting 
glory." 

''AH  right,"  ^  says  he.  And  Iv^n  got  ready  to 
start :  they  spruced  him  up. 

Ivdn  goes  out  on  the  doorstep:  he  sees  standing 
there  a  beggar-woman,  with  a  crippled  hand. 

"I  have  heard,"  says  she,  "that  thou  canst  cure 
folks.  Cure  my  hand,  for  now  I  cannot  put  on  my 
own  shoes." 

And  Ivdn  says,  "  All  right."  He  took  out  the  little 
root,  gave  it  to  the  beggar-woman,  bade  her  swallow 
it.  The  beggar-woman  swallowed  it,  and  became 
cured  ;  immediately  began  to  use  her  hand. 

IvAn's  father  and  mother  came  out  to  escort  him  to 
the  tsar.  When  they  learned  that  Ivdn  had  given  away 
his  last  rootlet,  and  had  nothing  to  cure  the  tsar's 
daughter  with,  his  father  and  mother  began  to  upbraid 
him. 

"  Thou  hadst  pity  on  the  beggar-woman,"  say  they, 
*'  but  on  the  tsar's  daughter  thou  hadst  no  pity."  Ivdn 
began  to  feel  sorry  for  the  tsar's  daughter  also.  He 
harnessed  the  horse,  spread  some  straw  into  the  wagon- 
box,  and  started. 

"  Now,^  where  art  thou  going,  fool?  " 

"  To  cure  the  tsar's  daughter." 

"  Yes,^  but  see  here  :  thou  hast  nothing  to  cure  her 
with." 

"It's  all  right,"  ^  says  he;  and  he  started  up  the 
horse. 

He  came  to  the  tsar's  dvor ;  and,  as  soon  as  he 
mounted  the  steps,  the  tsar's  daughter  got  well. 

The  tsar  was   overjoj^ed,  commanded  Ivdn  to  be 

^Nuchto-zh.  ^  Dal 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  291 

brought  to  him.  He  clothed  him,  decorated  him.  "  Be 
thou,"  says  he,  "my  son-in-law  !  " 

*'  All  right,"  ^  says  he. 

And  Ivdn  married  the  tsar^vna.  And  soon  the  tsar 
died,  and  Ivdn  became  tsar. 

Thus  all  three  of  the  brothers  became  tsars. 

1  Nu  chto-zkl 


292  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 


IX. 


The  three  brothers  lived  —  were  tsars. 

The  eldest  brother,  Sem'jon,  lived  well.  With  his 
straw  soldiers  he  collected  real  soldiers.  He  com- 
manded throughout  his  whole  tsardom  that  every  ten 
dvors  should  furnish  a  soldier,  and  that  this  soldier 
should  be  lofty  in  stature,  and  white  in  body,  and  clean 
in  face.  And  he  collected  many  such  soldiers,  and 
trained  them  all.  And  when  any  one  contradicted  him 
in  any  thing,  he  immediately  sends  these  soldiers,  and 
he  does  whatever  he  pleases.  And  all  began  to  hate 
him. 

And  life  was  pleasant  to  him.  Whatever  he  fancies, 
and  whatever  his  eyes  rest  upon,  that  is  his.  He 
sends  soldiers,  and  they  take  and  bring  all  that  he 
wants. 

Tdras  also  lived  well.  He  did  not  waste  the  money 
that  he  had  got  from  Ivdn,  but  he  made  great  additions 
to  it.  He  also  set  up  fine  arrangements  in  his  tsardom. 
He  kept  his  money  in  coffers,  and  he  exacted  money 
from  the  people.  He  exacted  money  for  their  serfs,^ 
and  for  their  coming  and  going,  and  for  their  sabots,^ 
and  for  their  leg- wrappers,  and  for  taxes.  And  what 
he  fancies,  every  thing  is  his.  For  money  they  bring 
him  every  thing ;  and  they  go  to  work,  because  every 
one  must  have  money. 

And  Ivdn-durak  did  not  live  poorl}-.     As  soon  as  he 

*  Dushi,  literally  souls.  «  Lapti,  bast  shoes. 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  293 

had  buried  his  father-in-law,  he  took  off  all  his  royal 
raiment,  gave  it  to  his  wife  to  lock  up  in  the  chest :  he 
dressed  in  his  hempen  shirt  ^  again,  put  on  his  drawers 
and  sabots,  and  betook  himself  to  work. 

*'  It  bores  me,"  says  he  :  "  my  belly  began  to  grow, 
and  no  appetite,  and  can't  sleep." 

He  brought  his  father  and  mother,  and  the  deaf  and 
dumb  d'y^vka,  and  began  once  more  to  work. 

And  they  said  to  him,  — 

''  But,  don't  you  see,  you  are  a  tsar !  " 

The  minister  came  to  him,  saying,  "We  have  no 
money,"  says  he,  ''to  pay  salaries." 

''AH  right,"  ^  says  fivan]  :  "if  you  have  none, 
then  don't  pay." 

"  But,"  says  he,  "  they  won't  ser\^e." 

"All  right,"  ^  says  he,  "let  them  not  serve,"  says 
he :  "  they  will  be  freer  if  they  work.  Let  them  carry 
out  manure :  they  have  brought  a  lot." 

They  came  to  Iv^n  to  sit  in  judgment.  One  says, 
"  He  has  stolen  my  money." 

And  Ivdn  says,  "All  right!  of  course  he  needed 
it." 

All  perceived  that  IvAn  was  a  fool;  and  his  wife 
said  to  him,  "  They  say  that  thou  art  a  fool." 

"All  right!  "8 

vvdn's  wife  pondered,  pondered ;  but  she  also  was  a 
fool.*  "What  is  the  use,"  says  she,  "for  me  to  go 
against  my  husband?  Where  the  needle  [is],  there 
the  thread  also  [should  be]." 

She  took  off  her  royal  raiment,  locked  it  up  in  the 
chest,  went  to  the  dumb  d'y^vka,  took  lessons  in  work, 

*  Rubdkha.  •  Nu  chto-eh. 
»  Nu  chto-zh;  well,  what  of  it? 

*  Diira,  fool,  does  lot  exactly  express  it,  any  more  than  its  masculine, 
durdk.    Crazy,  mad,  is  the  adjective  that  correepouds. 


294  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

When  she  had  learned  how  to  work,  she  began  to  aid 
her  husband. 

And  all  the  wise  left  Ivan's  tsardom :  only  fools 
were  left.  No  one  had  any  money.  They  lived,  they 
worked,  they  supported  themselves,  and  supported 
good  men. 


IVAN   THE  FOOL.  295 


X. 


The  old  Devil  waited,  waited  for  tidings  from  the 
devilkins,  about  their  success  in  provoking  the  three 
brothers  :  no  tidings  at  all.  He  himself  went  to  inves- 
tigate. He  hunted,  hunted ;  discovered  no  sign  of 
them  :  he  found  only  the  three  holes. 

*'  Well,"  says  he  to  himself,  "  plainly  they  did  not 
get  the  better  of  them.     I  must  take  hold  myself." 

He  started  on  the  quest,  but  the  brothers  were  not 
in  their  old  places.  He  found  them  in  their  different 
kingdoms.  All  three  are  alive,  reigning  as  tsars. 
This  seemed  outrageous  to  the  old  Devil. 

''  Well,"  ^  says  he,  "  I  had  better  take  hold  of  this 
job  myself." 

He  went  first  of  all  to  Sem'yon-tsar.  He  went  not 
in  his  own  shape,  but  changed  into  a  vaivode,^  came  to 
Sem 'yon-tsar. 

"  1  have  heard,"  says  he,  "  that  thou,  Sem'yon-tsar, 
art  a  great  warrior ;  and  I  am  thoroughly  posted  in 
that  business.     I  wish  to  enter  thy  service." 

Sem'yon-tsar  began  to  question  him,  sees  that  he  is 
a  man  of  sense,  took  him  into  his  service. 

The  new  vaivode  began  to  show  Sem'yon-tsar  how 
to  collect  a  powerful  army. 

'*  First  thing,"  says  he,  "it  is  necessary  to  collect 
more   soldiers;   and   now,"   sa3''s  he,   "many  people 

«  RusBiati  voyevdda,  army-leader:  also  written  in  English,  waywode. 


296  IVAN   THE  FOOL. 

are  idly  wandering  up  and  down  thy  tsardom.  It  is 
necessary,"  says  he,  "to  recruit  all  the  young  men, 
without  exception  ;  then  thou  wilt  have  an  army  five 
times  as  large  as  before.  Secondly,  it  is  necessary  to 
get  new  rifles  and  cannon.  I  will  get  for  thee  such 
rifles  as  will  shoot  a  hundred  bullets  at  a  time,  that 
will  fly  about  like  peas.  And  I  will  get  such  cannon 
as  will  consume  with  fire.  Either  man,  or  horse,  or 
wall  —  all  will  be  consumed." 

Sem'yon-tsar  listened  to  his  new  vaivode  ;  ordered  all 
the  young  children,  without  distinction,  to  be  taken  as 
soldiers ;  and  he  established  new  manufactories.  He 
made  new  rifles,  cannon,  and  immediately  went  to  war 
with  a  neighboring  tsar. 

As  soon  as  the  army  came  out  to  meet  them,  Sem'yon- 
tsar  ordered  his  soldiers  to  shoot  at  them  with  bullets, 
and  with  fire  from  the  cannon.  At  one  blow  it  disabled, 
burned  up,  half  the  army.  The  neighboring  tsar  was 
panic-struck,  ate  humble-pie,  and  surrendered  his  tsar- 
dom.    Sem'yon-tsar  was  overjoyed. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "I  am  going  to  attack  the  tsar  of 
India." 

But  the  tsar  of  India  had  heard  about  Sem'yon-tsar, 
and  copied  from  him  all  of  his  inventions:  yes,  and, 
moreover,  invented  some  of  his  own.  The  tsar  of 
India  began  to  take  as  soldiers,  not  only  young  children, 
but  all  the  unmarried  babas  he  also  enlisted  as  sol- 
diers ;  and  his  army  became  still  larger  than  Sem'yon- 
tsar's.  And  he  copied  from  Sem'yon-tsar  all  his  rifles 
and  cannon,  and,  moreover,  invented  a  method  of  flying 
through  the  air,  and  launching  bomb-shells  from  above. 

Sem'yon-tsar  went  to  war  against  the  tsar  of  India 
—  he  thought  to  win  in  battle  as  before ;  but  the 
scythe  that  once  cut  was  dulled :  the  tsar  of  India  did 


IVAN   THE  FOOL.  297 

not  let  Sem'yon's  army  shoot,  but  he  sent  his  babas 
up  into  the  air  to  launch  bomb-shells  upon  Sem'yon's 
army.  The  babas  began  to  drop  bombs  from  above 
upon  Sem'yon's  army,  like  a  tempest  on  beetles :  all 
Sem'yon's  army  took  to  flight,  and  Sem'yon-tsar  was 
left  alone.  The  tsar  of  India  took  Sem'yon's  tsar- 
dom,  and  Sem'yon  fled  with  all  his  might. ^ 

The  old  Devil  was  done  with  this  brother,  and  went 
to  Taras-tsar.  He  changed  into  a  merchant,  and 
settled  in  Tdras's  tsardom ;  began  to  establish  estab- 
lishments, began  to  be  free  with  his  money. ^  The 
merchant  began  to  pay  dear  for  every  sort  of  thing, 
and  all  the  people  flocked  to  the  merchant  —  to  earn 
money.  And  the  people  made  so  much  money  that 
they  all  cancelled  their  debts,  and  all  began  to  pa}" 
their  taxes  prompth\ 

Taras-tsar  was  delighted.  *' Thanks  to  the  mer- 
chant," thinks  he,  "  now  I  shall  get  still  more  money 
—  my  life  will  be  still  better. ' ' 

And  T^ras-tsar  endeavored  to  devise  new  devices : 
he  began  to  build  a  new  palace  for  himself.  He  in- 
vited the  people  to  bring  him  lumber  and  stone,  and 
set  to  work :  he  offered  high  prices  for  every  thing. 
Tdras-tsar  thought  that,  judging  by  the  past,  the 
people  would  come  to  work  for  him  in  crowds  for  the 
money.  Lo !  they  bring  all  the  lumber  and  stone  to 
the  merchant,  and  all  the  working-people  flock  to  him. 
Tdras-tsar  raised  his  offer,  but  the  merchant  went  still 
higher.  Tdras-tsar  had  much  money,  but  the  merchant 
still  more ;  and  the  merchant's  price  was  better  than 
the  tsar's.  The  tsar's  palace  was  at  a  stand -still  : 
building  stops. 

1  Kudd  glazd  gryad'ydi;  literally,  whither  the  eyes  look,  hence  attentively, 
diligently. 
*  Deneehki :  copper  coins,  worth  a  quarter  of  a  kopek. 


298  IVAN   THE  FOOL. 

A  garden  had  been  laid  out  for  Taras-tsar.  The 
autumn  came.  Tdras  the  tsar  invites  the  people  to 
come  to  him  to  work  in  the  garden  —  no  one  comes  — 
all  the  people  are  engaged  in  digging  a  pond  for  the 
merchant. 

Winter  came.  Tdras-tsar  contemplated  buying  sable- 
skins  for  a  new  shuba :  he  sends  out  to  buy  them  —  his 
messenger  comes  back  —  says,  ' '  There  are  no  sable- 
skins.  The  merchant  has  them  all :  he  gave  a  higher 
price,  and  he  has  made  a  carpet  out  of  the  sable- 
skins." 

Tdras-tsar  wanted  to  buy  himself  some  stallions : 
he  sent  out  to  buy  —  his  agents  return:  '^  The  mer- 
chant has  all  the  good  stallions :  they  are  bringing  him 
water  to  fill  up  his  pond." 

All  the  tsar's  affairs  are  at  a  stand-still ;  they  will  do 
nothing  for  him,  but  they  do  every  thing  for  the  mer- 
chant :  and  they  only  bring  him  the  merchant's  money  ; 
they  pay  it  for  their  taxes. 

And  the  tsar  collected  so  much  money  that  he  had 
nowhere  to  put  it,  and  life  became  wretched.  The  tsar 
had  now  ceased  to  devise  devices  —  his  only  concern 
was  to  live  at  all  —  and  this  is  impossible.  He  was 
hampered  on  all  sides.  His  cooks  and  coachmen  left, 
him,  and  took  service  with  the  merchant.  It  had  now 
gone  so  far  that  he  had  nothing  to  eat.  If  he  sends 
to  the  bazar  to  buy  any  thing  —  there  is  nothing :  the 
merchant  has  bought  every  thing  up,  and  they  bring 
him  only  money  for  taxes  ! 

Tdras  the  tsar  was  angry,  and  banished  the  mer- 
chant beyond  the  frontier ;  but  the  merchant  settled 
down  on  the  very  frontier ;  the  same  thing  happens : 
all  is  exactly  the  same  ;  for  the  sake  of  the  merchant's 
money  they  carry  every  thing  away  from  the  tsar  to 


IVAN   THE  FOOL.  299 

the  merchant.  It  became  thoroughly  unpleasant  for  the 
tsar ;  for  days  at  a  time,  there  is  nothing  to  eat ;  the 
report  spread  even,  that  the  merchant  boasts  that  he 
is  willing  to  buy  the  tsar  himself.  Tsar  Taras  lost  his 
courage,  and  he  knows  not  what  will  come  of  it. 

Sem'yon-voin  comes  to  him,  and  says,  "  Help  me,** 
says  he  :  ''  the  tsar  of  India  has  conquered  me."  But 
the  affairs  of  Tdras  the  tsar  himself  were  in  a  knot. 

''I  myself,"  says  he,  ''  have  not  had  any  thing  to 
eat  for  two  days." 


300  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 


XI. 


The  old  Devil  was  done  with  two  of  the  brothers, 
and  he  came  to  Ivdn.  The  old  Devil  changed  into  a 
vai'vode,  came  to  Ivdn,  and  tried  to  persuade  him  to 
form  an  army.  ''It  does  not,"  says  he,  "become  a 
tsar  to  live  without  an  army.  Only  give  me  orders, 
and  I  will  gather  soldiers  from  thy  people,  and  form 
an  army.'* 

Ivdn  heard  him  to  the  end. 

"  All  right,"  says  he,  "  form  it ;  but  teach  them  to 
sing  songs  most  cleverly.     I  like  that." 

The  old  Devil  sets  to  work  to  recruit  volunteer  sol- 
diers throughout  Ivdn's  dominion.  He  explained  that 
they  should  shave  their  foreheads  :  each  recruit  would 
have  a  measure  of  vodka  ^  and  a  red  cap. 

The  fools  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  We  have  enough  of 
brandy,"  they  say;  "we  make  it  ourselves:  and  as 
for  shapki,  our  babas  will  make  us  as  many  as  you 
like,  even  variegated  ones  ;  yes,  and  with  tassels  too !  "• 

And  so  he  got  no  recruits.  The  old  Devil  comes  to 
Ivdn. 

"They  will  not  come,"  says  he,  "as  volunteers: 
they  must  be  forcibly  conscripted." 

"  All  right, "/^  says  he,  "  conscript  £hem  forcibly." 

And  the  old  Devil "  gave  orders  that  all  the  fools 
should  be  enrolled  as  soldiers,  and  whoever  did  not 
come,  Ivdn  would  put  to  death. 

1  A  shtof:  eight  of  these  measures  make  a  v*yedro,  or  2.70  gallons. 
•  2Pu  chto-zh. 


JVAN   THE  FOOL.  301 

The  durdki  came  to  the  vai'vode,  and  say,  ''Thou 
tellest  us  that  if  we  go  not  as  soldiers,  the  tsar  will  put 
us  to  death  ;  but  thou  dost  not  tell  us  what  will  happen 
to  us  in  the  army.  They  say  that  eveu  soldiers  are 
carried  off  by  death.'* 

"  Yes,  but  not  without  reason.'* 

The  durdki  heard  this,  and  were  firm. 
.     "We  will  not  go,"  they  say.     "It  is  better,  let  us 
wait  for  death  at  home.     Even  thus  it  is  not  to  be 
escaped." 

"  You  are  fools,  fools  !  "  says  the  old  Devil ;  "  sol- 
diers may  get  killed,  or  may  not:  but  if  you  don't 
come,  Ivdu  the  tsar  will  assuredly  put  you  to  death." 

The  durdki  pondered  a  little :  they  went  to  Ivdn- 
durdk  to  ask  him.  "  A  vaiVode,"  say  they,  "  ap- 
peared, commands  us  all  to  go  as  soldiers.  '  If  3'ou 
go  as  soldiers,'  says  he,  'you  may  be  killed,  or  may 
Dot;  but  if  you  don't  come,  then  the  tsar  Ivdn  will 
assuredly  put  you  to  death.'     Is  this  true?  " 

Ivdn  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  How,"  says  he,  "  can  I  alone  put  you  all  to  death? 
If  I  were  not  a  fool,  I  would  explain  it  for  you ;  but 
now  I  don't  understand  it  myself." 

"  Then,"  say  they,  "  we  will  not  go." 

"  All  right,"  says  he,  "  don't  go." 

The  durdki  went  to  the  vaivode,  and  refused  to  en- 
list. 

The  old  Devil  sees  that  his  work  is  not  prospering. 
He  went  to  the  Tarakdn  ^-tsar :  he  went  in  disguise. 

"  Come  on,"  says  he,  "  let  us  make  war  upon  Ivdn 
the  tsar.  He  has  not  much  money,  but  he  has  grain 
and  cattle,  and  all  sorts  of  good  things." 

The  Tarakdn-tsar  went  to  war ;  he  collected  a  great 

1  Tardkd7i  is  a  cockroach,  or  beetle. 


802  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

army ;  furnished  rifles,  cannon ;  crossed  the  frontier, 
began  to  march  into  Ivdn's  dominion. 

They  came  to  Ivdn  and  say,  ''The  Tarakdn-tsar  is 
marching  to  make  war  upon  us.'* 

"  All  right,"  says  he,  "  let  him  come." 

The  Tarakdn-tsar  crossed  the  frontier  with  his  army, 
sent  scouts  to  reconnoitre  Ivdu's  army.  They  searched, 
searched  :  no  army  !  To  wait,  keep  waiting  —  will  it 
not  appear  somewhere?  But  there  is  no  sign  of  an 
army  —  nobody  to  fight  with  !  The  Tarakdn-tsar  sent 
to  seize  the  villages.  The  soldiers  came  to  one  village. 
The  fools  —  men,  women  —  ran  out  —  gaze  at  the  sol- 
diers—  are  amazed. 

The  soldiers  began  to  rob  the  durdki  of  their  grain, 
their  cattle.  The  durdki  give  them  up,  and  no  one 
offers  resistance. 

The  soldiers  came  to  another  village  —  the  same  thing 
there.  The  soldiers  proceeded  one  day;  they  pro- 
ceeded another ;  everywhere  always  the  same ;  every 
thing  is  given  up,  no  one  offers  to  resist,  and  they  in- 
vite the  soldiers  to  live  with  them. 

*'If  life  is  so  wretched  over  on  your  side,  dear 
friends,"  they  say,  "  come  and  live  with  us !  " 

The  soldiers  marched,  marched,  —  no  army !  And 
all  the  people  exist  by  feeding  themselves  and  others ; 
and  they  offer  no  resistance,  and  invite  them  to  live 
with  them. 

It  became  tiresome  to  the  soldiers  :  they  returned  to 
their  Tarakdn-tsar. 

*' We  cannot  fight:  lead  us  to  some  other  place. 
The  war  would  have  been  good,  good ;  but  this  is  like 
cutting  kissel- jelly.  We  cannot  make  war  any  longer 
here." 

The  Tarakdn-tsar  was  angry ;  commanded  the  sol- 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  303 

diers  to  overrun  the  whole  tsardom  ;  to  pick  quarrels  ; 
to  set  villages,  houses,  grain,  on  fire ;  to  kill  the  cat- 
tle. "If  you  obey  not  mj^  command,'*  says  he,  "all 
of  you,'*  says  he,  "  I  will  put  you  to  death." 

The  soldiers  were  frightened :  they  began  to  carry 
out  the  ukas  on  the  tsardom.  They  began  to  burn 
houses,  grain  ;  to  kill  the  cattle.  Still  the  durdki  offer 
no  resistance,  only  weep.  The  old  men  weep,  the  old 
women  weep,  the  3'oung  children  weep. 

"  Why,"  say  they,  "  do  you  injure  us?  Why,"  say 
they,  "  do  ye  evil  for  good?  If  ye  need  any  thing,  ye 
had  better  take  it  for  yourselves  !  " 

It  seemed  abominable  to  the  soldiers.  They  went 
no  farther,  and  the  whole  army  took  to  its  heels. 


304  J  VAN  THE  FOOL. 


XII. 


Thus  the  old  Devil  also  went  off  —  he  did  not  catch 
him  by  his  soldiers. 

The  old  Devil  changed  into  a  neatly  dressed  gentle- 
man,^ and  came  to  live  in  Ivan's  dominions :  ^  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  catch  him  by  means  of  money,  as  he 
had  Taras. 

"I  wish,"  says  he,  "to  do  you  a  good  turn,  —  to 
teach  you  how  to  be  wise.  I,"  says  he,  "  will  build 
you  a  house,  and  establish  some  establishments." 

"  All  right,"  says  Ivdn,  "  live  here."  ^ 

The  neatly  dressed  gentleman  spent  the  night,  and 
in  the  morning  went  to  the  public  square,  took  a  great 
bag  of  gold,  and  sheets  of  paper,  and  sa^^s,  "You 
live,  all  of  you,"  says  he,  "like  swine:  I  want  to 
teach  you  like  3'ou  ought  to  live.  Build  me,"  says  he, 
"a  house  on  this  plan.  You  work,  and  I  will  show 
you  how ;  and  I  will  pay  you  in  gold  coin." 

And  he  showed  them  the  gold.  The  fools  wondered. 
They  had  no  money  in  manufactures,  and  they  bartered 
among  themselves  one  thing  for  another,  and  paid  in 
wood.     They  wondered  at  the  gold. 

"The  pieces,"  they  say,  "are  pretty."  And  they 
began  to  exchange  their  produce  and  work  for  the  gen- 
tleman's gold-pieces.  The  old  Devil  began  to  be  free 
with  his  gold,  as  he  had  in  Taras 's  case ;  and  they 
began  to  exchange  all  sorts  of  things  for  his  gold,  and 
to  work  all  sorts  of  works. 

1  Gospodin  2  Tm7'stvo.  ^  2fu  chto-zh,  zhivi. 


IVAN   THE  FOOL.  305 

The  old  Devil  was  overjoyed  :  he  thinks,  "  My  scheme 
is  coming  on  excellently.  Now  I  am  going  to  get  the 
fool  angry,  as  I  did  Tdras  ;  and  I  shall  buy  him  abso- 
lutely, body  and  soul."  ^ 

As  soon  as  the  durdki  got  their  gold  coins,  they  gave 
them  to  their  babas  for  necklaces :  all  the  d'yevkas 
twined  them  into  their  tresses.  And  even  the  children 
in  the  streets  began  to  use  them  as  toys  to  play  with. 
All  had  a  quantity,  and  they  cease  not  to  add  to  it. 
But  still  the  neatly  dressed  gentleman's  mansion  was 
not  half  completed,  and  he  had  not  as  yet  provided 
enough  grain  and  cattle  for  the  year.  And  the  gentle- 
man publicly  invites  the  people  to  work  for  him,  to 
cart  him  grain,  to  bring  him  cattle :  for  all  kinds  of 
things,  and  for  all  kinds  of  work,  he  will  give  much 
gold.  No  one  comes  to  work,  and  no  one  brings  any 
thing.  Only  now  and  then  a  lad  or  a  little  girl  happens 
along  to  exchange  an  egg  for  a  gold-piece. 

The  neatly  dressed  gentleman  began  to  get  famished ; 
went  to  a  village  to  buy  himself  a  dinner.  He  forced 
his  way  into  one  dvor ;  offers  gold  for  a  hen ;  the 
kozyaika  refuses  it. 

*'  I  have,'*  says  she,  "  a  lot  of  these  things.'* 

He  forced  his  way  into  a  poor  peasant-woman's  hut,^ 
to  buy  a  herring:  he  offers  gold.  "I  don't  need  it, 
kind  sir,"  says  she.  "I  have  no  children,"  says  she, 
' '  to  play  with  such  a  thing ;  and  I  have  already  got 
three  pieces  as  curiosities." 

He  forced  his  way  into  a  muzhik's  after  bread  :  the 
muzhik  also  refused  the  money.  "  I  don't  need  it," 
he  says,  "Christ  be  praised!  It's  nothing:  just  wait 
till  I  tell  my  baba  to  cut  you  off  some." 

The  devil  spit ;   hastened  away  from   the  muzhik. 

*  8  potrokhom,  with  his  inwards  1  *  Bobuilka. 


806  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

He  could  not  stomach  that  Christ  be  praised;  ^  and  even 
the  hearing  of  the  words  hurt  him  worse  than  a  knife. 

And  so  he  got  no  bread. 

All  had  sufficient ;  wherever  the  old  Devil  goes,  no 
one  will  give  him  any  thing  for  money ;  but  all  say, 
^^ Bring  something  else,*'  or  "  Come  and  work,"  or 
"  Take  it,  in  Christ's  name."  ^  But  the  Devil  has 
nothing  except  money,  and  no  desire  to  work  ;  but  the 
Christ's  sake  he  cannot  stomach.  The  old  Devil  grew 
angry.  ''What  do  you  need  more,  when  I  offer  you 
money?  You  buy  every  thing  for  gold,  and  hire  every 
sort  of  workman." 

The  durdki  do  not  listen  to  him.  "  No,"  say  they, 
"  we  don't  need  it.  No  one  here  pays  taxes  or  wages. 
What  should  we  want  of  money  ?  ' ' 

The  old  Devil,  after  he  had  eaten  supper,  went  to 
bed. 

This  affair  was  reported  to  Ivdn-durdk :  they  came 
to  ask  him,  "What  are  we  to  do?  This  neatlj^  dressed 
gentleman  appeared  among  us :  he  likes  to  eat  and 
drink  good  things ;  he  likes  to  dress  neatly ;  but  he 
does  not  like  to  work,  and  he  does  not  ask  alms ;  ^  but 
he  offers  only  gold-pieces  everywhere.  Until  we  got 
enough  of  them,  we  gave  it  to  him  for  them  ;  but  now 
we  don't  any  more.  What  are  we  to  do  with  him? 
How  could  he  help  dying  of  starvation?  " 

Ivan  listened. 

"  All  right,"  says  he.  "  We  must  support  him.  Let 
him  go  from  dvor  to  dvor  as  the  shepherd  goes." 

No  help  for  it :  the  old  Devil  began  to  go  from  dvor 
to  dvor.     He  came  in  rotation  to  Ivan's  dvor. 

The  old  Devil  came  in  to  dinner ;  and  at  Ivdn's  the 
deaf  and  dumb  d'yevka  was  getting  dinner  ready. 

1  Bddi  Khnsta. 


rVAN  THE  FOOL.  307 

The  most  slothful  had  often  deceived  her.  After 
they  finished  their  work,  the  men  come  in  to  dinner 
earlier*  than  usual.  They  eat  up  all  the  kasha-gruel. 
And  the  deaf  and  dumb  d'yevka  was  quick-witted 
enough  to  recognize  the  bummer  by  his  hands.  Any 
one  who  has  callous  places  on  his  hands,  she  gives  a 
seat  to ;  but  the  one  who  has  not,  to  him  she  gives  the 
scraps. 

The  old  Devil  climbed  up  to  the  table :  but  the  deaf 
and  dumb  d'yevka  took  hold  of  his  hands,  looked  at 
them  closely ;  no  callous  places,  and  the  hands  are 
clean,  smooth,  and  the  nails  are  long.  The  dumb  girl 
grunted  like  a  cow,  and  pulled  the  Devil  away  from 
the  table. 

But  Ivdn's  wife  says  to  him,  "Do  not  ill-treat  the 
neatly  dressed  gentleman :  my  sister-in-law  does  not 
allow  those  who  have  not  callous  hands  to  come  to 
table.  .  .  .  Here,  have  patience :  the  men  are  almost 
done  eating,  then  thou  shalt  eat  up  what  is  left." 

The  old  Devil  was  affronted  because  at  the  tsar's 
they  wanted  him  to  feed  with  the  pigs.  He  took  it 
upon  him  to  say  to  Tvdn,  "You  h^ve,"  says  he,  "a 
foolish  law  in  your  dominions,  —  that  all  people  work 
with  their  hands.  That  was  a  stupid  way  of  looking 
at  it.  Why  should  people  work  with  their  hands  alone  ? 
Dost  thou  realize  in  what  way  men  of  intellect  work?  " 

But  Ivdn  says,  "  Wherever  we  fools  have  a  chance, 
we  always  work  to  the  utmost  with  our  hands." 

*'  That  comes  of  the  fact  that  you  are  fools.  But 
I,"  says  he,  "will  teach  you  how  to  work  with  your 
brains :  then  you  will  know  that  head-work  is  more 
profitable  than  hand-work." 

Ivdn  was  amazed.  "Well,"  says  he,  "  we  are  not 
called  fools  for  nothing." 


308  IVAN   THE  FOOL. 

And  the  old  Devil  says,  "  But  it  is  not  easy,"  says 
he,  "  to  work  with  the  brain.  Here  you  did  not  allow 
me  to  eat  with  you  because  my  hands  were  not  cal- 
loused, but  you  don't  understand  that  it  is  a  hundred 
times  harder  to  work  with  the  brain.  Sometimes  the 
head  even  splits." 

Ivdn  sank  into  thought.  ''Why,"  says  he,  "be- 
loved, dost  thou  torment  thyself  so?  Is  it  easy  when 
the  head  splits?  Thou  wouldst  much  better  do  easy 
work  —  even  hard  work  with  the  hands." 

But  the  Devil  says,  '^  Why  should  I  bother  m3^self 
to  take  pity  on  you  fools  ?  If  I  did  not  bother  myself, 
you  would  be  fools  forever.  But  now  I  am  going  to 
teach  you  how  to  work  with  your  brains." 

Ivan  marvelled.  "Teach  us,"  says  he;  "but  the 
next  time  that  the  hands  get  tired  out,  then  change 
them  for  head-work." 

And  the  Devil  promised  to  teach  them. 

And  Ivdn  proclaimed  throughout  all  his  dominions, 
that  the  neatly  dressed  gentleman  would  teach  all  how 
to  work  with  the  brains,  and  how  they  can  work  with 
their  brains  better  than  with  their  hands,  and  that 
they  come  to  be  taught. 

A  high  watch-tower  was  built  in  Ivdn's  dominions, 
and  on  it  a  steep  stairs  ;  and  on  top,  a  platform.  And 
Ivan  took  the  gentleman  there,  so  that  he  might  be  in 
sight  of  all. 

The  gentleman  stood  on  the  tower,  and  began  to 
speak  from  it.  And  the  duraki  gathered  to  behold. 
The  durdki  thought  that  the  gentleman  was  going  to 
give  illustrations  how  to  work  with  the  brain  apart  from 
the  hands.  But  the  old  Devil  only  multiplied  words 
to  teach  them  how  it  was  possible  to  live  without  work. 

The  fools   understood  nothing.      They   gazed   and 


IVAN  THE  FOOL.  309 

gazed,  and  then  went  in  different  directions   to  their 
labors. 

The  old  Devil  stood  one  day  on  the  tower,  stood  for 
another  day,  talked  all  the  time.  He  began  to  get 
hungry.  But  the  durdki  thought  it  needless  to  bring 
bread  to  the  tower.  They  thought  that  if  he  could 
work  better  with  his  brains  than  with  his  hands,  then 
it  would  be  mere  play  for  the  brains  to  provide  bread. 
And  the  old  Devil  stood  for  still  another  day  on  the 
platform,  and  began  to  grow  weak.  He  staggered 
once,  and  thumped  his  head  against  the  post.  One 
fool  noticed  it,  and  told  Ivan's  wife ;  and  Ivan's  wife 
came  to  her  husband,  in  the  fallow  field. 

"  Let  us  go,"  says  she,  ''and  look:  they  say  that 
the  gospodin  is  giving  lessons  in  brain- work."  Ivdn 
was  surprised. 

"  Really?  "  ^  says  he.  He  turned  the  horse  round ; 
went  to  the  tower. 

He  comes  to  the  tower ;  and  the  old  Devil  by  this 
time  was  thoroughly  weak  in  the  head,  began  to  totter, 
whacked  his  head  against  the  post. 

As  soon  as  Ivdn  came,  the  Devil  stumbled,  fell  with 
a  thundering  noise  down  the  stairs,  head  over  heels : 
he  counted  all  the  steps. 

"  Well,"  says  Ivdn,  "  the  neatly  dressed  gentle- 
man told  the  truth  when  he  said  that  sometimes  the 
head  splits  :  that's  its  kind  of  callosities.  From  such 
work  the  head  gets  covered  with  bumps." 

The  old  Devil  came  bumping  down  the  stairs,  and 
thumped  against  the  ground.  Ivdn  was  about  to  go 
and  see  whether  he  had  accomplished  much  work, 
when,  suddenly,  the  earth  opened,  and  the  old  Devil 
fell  through  the  earth  :  only  the  hole  was  left. 
^  2fu. 


310  IVAN  THE  FOOL. 

Ivdn  scratched  his  head.  "Ah,  ha!"^  says  he. 
"  What  a  nasty  thing !  There  he  was  again !  Must 
have  been  the  father.*^    What  a  healthy  one  !  " 

Ivdn  is  still  living,  and  all  the  people  are  thronging 
to  his  dominions  ;  and  his  brothers  have  come  to  him, 
and  he  supports  them.  Whoever  comes,  and  says, 
''  Give  us  food,"  —  "  All  right,"  ^  says  he :  "  3^ou're 
welcome !  we  have  plenty  of  every  thing."  There  is 
only  one  regulation  in  his  tsardom :  Whoever  has  cal- 
lous hands,  comes  to  the  table ;  and  who  has  not,  gets 
the  scraps ! 

1  Jsh  tuu  «  Batka.  »  Nu  chto-zh. 


GLOSSAKT. 


Baha.  Peasant  -  woman,  especially 
the  wife  of  a  peasant. 

JSdrin.  The  master,  especially  in  the 
parlance  of  peasants. 

Baruinat  the  lady  or  mistress. 

Bdtiushka.  Grandfather  (diminutive). 

Durdk.    A  fool. 

Dvor.  Any  household  establishment 
including  izba  or  house  or  palace 
with  the  grounds. 

Dvomik.  The  servant  devoted  to  the 
care  of  the  dvor :  hence  porter,  in- 
side-mau,  or  hostler. 

B'yixika.  Unmarried  or  marriageable 
girl. 

Gospodin.    Gentleman. 

Izba.    Peasant's  cottage. 

Kaftan.  Peasant -coat,  diminntlve 
kaftanchik. 

Kasha.    Gruel. 

Khozydin.  Master  of  any  sort  of  es- 
tablishment. 

Khozydika.  ■  The  wife  of  a  khozyain, 
or  the  mistress  of  any  sort  of  estab- 
lishment. 

Krestnik.    A  godson. 

Kvas.  A  drink  made  of  fermented  rye. 

Lapti.  Wooden  shoes  made  of  basts. 
Young  married 
woman,  diminutive 
from  moloddya, 
from  adjective  mo- 
lod,  young. 


Moloddika. 
Molddka. 
Molodushka. 
Molodukha. 


Muzhik.  (Mujik,  moujic.)  Peasant, 
countryman  fthc  peasant  is  known 
also  as  krestydnin.  Probably  from 
Christian  when  It  was  a  term  of 
reproach) . 

Nu  chto-zh.  Literally,  well,  or  now, 
what? 

Pirozhki.   Diminutive  of  pirog,  a  pie. 

Prikdshchik.    Steward,  manager. 

Samovar.  A  tea-apparatus,  generally 
of  brass,  consisting  of  charcoal- 
holder,  water-urn,  etc.  Tula  is  the 
home  of  the  samovar.  Samovar- 
chik,  diminutive. 

Sarafan.  A  long  over-garment  with- 
out arms :  it  is  a  distinctive  Russian 
dress.    Sarafanchik,  diminutive. 

Shchi.    Cabbage-soup. 

Shuba.  Fur  garment,  "  furs "  in 
general.    Shubyonka,  diminutive. 

Sokha.   The  Russian  national  plough. 

Stdnk.    Old  man. 

Stdrosta.  Noun  formed  from  root 
star  old;  head  of  a  community. 

Strdnnik.    A  professional  pilgrim. 

Vdlenki.    Felt  boots. 

Vareniki.  A  kind  of  pirog,  or  patty, 
filled  with  whey,  or  something  of 
the  sort. 

Vodka.  Com-bi-andy,  diminutive  of 
voda  water,  aqua  vitae. 

Volost.  Canton;  several  communi- 
ties in  one  administration. 

311 


COUNT  TOLSTOrS  WORKS. 


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A  series  of  reminiscences  and  traditions  of  the  author's  early  life. 
"  These  exquisite  sketches  belong  to  the  literature  whiqh  never  grows  old,  which 
lives  forever  in  the  heart  of  humamty  as  a  cherished  revelation."  —Zaf^rary  IVorld. 

MY  CONFESSION  AND  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST'S  TEACHINQ.     lamo,  $1.00. 

An  autobiographical  account  of  the  changes  in  the  author's  religious  opinions,  and 
the  various  causes  by  which  it  was  brought  about ;  all  of  which  is  told  m  the  most 
delightful  manner^  and  will  enable  the  reader  to  understand  more  clearly  his  "My 
Religion,"  which  is  the  sequel  to  this  volume. 

"  Like  the  writings  of  Bunyan  and  Thomas  i  Kempis,  Tolstoi's  Confession  will  be 
read  eagerly  and  become  sjjiritual  tonic  and  daily  food  to  little  children  in  the  Kingdom 
of  Christ,  whatever  be  their  '  church,'  tongue,  or  nation."  —  Critic,  New  York. 

MY  RELIGION.     A  companion  book  to  My  Confession,     lamo,  $1.00. 

"  Should  go  to  every  household  where  the  New  Testament  is  read,  *  *  *  Every 
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it  to  confute  it,  but  still  read,  and  'he  that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it.' " — 
New  York  Sun. 

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A  EUSSIA¥  PROPRIETOR,  AND  OTHER  STORIES.    (/«  Press.)    izmo,  $1.50. 


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COUNT  TOLSTOI'S  "WORKS.— The  remarkable  interest  recently  awakened  by  this 
"great  writer  of  the  Russian  land  "  has  caused  a  constantly  growing  demand  for  the 
English  translations  of  his  works.     The  following  are  now  ready 


Anna  Kasenina   .     .    .     lamo,  $1*75 
Childhood,  Boyhood  and  Youth, 

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My  Religion "      $1.00 

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What  to  Do "     gi.25 


A  Russian  Proprietor  {in  press). 
LES  MISEEABLES.  —  By  Victor  Hugo.     Translated  from  the  French  by  Isabel  F. 
Hapgood.     With  160  full-page  illustrations,  printed  on  fine  calendered  paper,  and 
bound  in  neat  and  attractive  style.     5  vols.,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $7.50;  half  calf,  $15.00. 
Popular  edition  in  one  volume,  12  mo,  ^1.50. 

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WASHINGTON  IRVING'S  WORKS.  —  From  new  plates.     Cloth,  i2mo,  6  vols.,  $7.50; 

library  edition,  gilt  top,  $9.00;  half  calf,  marbled,  $15.00. 
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POEMS  IN  COLOR. —With  56  exquisite  illustrations  from  original  designs  by  W.  J. 

Whittemore.  * 

Sea  Pictures,  by  Tennyson.  I      I  Remember,  by  Hood. 

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These  bright-colored  and  suggestive  little  designs  are  illustrations  in  the  best  sense 

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INITIALS  AND  PSEUDONYMS.  —A  Dictionary  of  Literary  Disguises.    By  William 

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A  most  convenient  and  even  necessary  adjunct  for  the  desk  of  a  literary  worker. 
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each  $1.25. 
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ST.  PAUL'S  PROBLEM  AND  ITS  SOLUTION.— Dedicated  to  the  Young  People's 

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A  charming  picture  of  manners  and  customs  in  "  Ultima  Thule." 


Count  TolstoVs  Greatest  Work  of  Fiction^ 

ANNA  KARENINA. 

By  COUNT  LEO.  TOLSTOI. 

Translated  from  the  Russian  by  Nathan  Haskell  Dole. 

Royal  i2mo,  750  pp.,  $1.75. 


"As  you  read  on  you  say,  not, '  This  is  like  life,'  but, '  This  is  life.'  It  has  not 
only  the  complexion,  the  very  hue,  of  life,  but  its  movement,  its  advances,  its 
strange  pauses,  its  seeming  reversions  to  former  conditions,  and  its  perpetual 
change,  its  apparent  isolations,  its  essential  solidarity.  It  is  a  world,  and  you 
live  in  it  while  you  read,  and  long  afterward;  but  at  no  step  have  you  been 
betrayed,  not  because  your  guide  has  warned  or  exhorted  you,  but  because  he 
has  been  true,  and  has  shown  you  all  things  as  they  are," —  W.  D.  Howells^  in 
Harpers'  Monthly, 

"The  power  of  this  book  lies  in  the  author's  supreme  control  of  the  influences 
which  aflfect  human  action,  in  his  vivid  apprehension  of  the  operation  of  inex- 
orable law,  in  his  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  action  and  reaction  of  spiritual  con- 
ditions. With  a  noble  art  he  throws  against  the  shadow^,  that  deepens  ever  to 
the  end,  a  radiant  soul  development  that  serenely  grows  brighter  till  we  know  it 
is  Tolstoi  himself,  his  experience,  his  best.  It  is  a  great  book,  and  of  such 
creations  the  most  sin«:ere  admiration  falls  sadly  short  of  fitting  expression."  — 
Washington  Post.  • 

"The  effect  of  the  whole  is  stimulating  and  elevating.  The  book  is  certainly 
one  of  decided  genius."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  speak  of  this  noble  book  without  incurring  the  suspicion  of 
extravagance."  ^Neiv  York  Examiner. 

"Will  take  rank  among  the  great  works  of  fiction  of  the  age."  —  Portland 
Transcript. 

"Characterized  by  all  the  breadth  and  complexity,  the  insight,  and  the  pro- 
found analysis  of'  Middlemarch.'  " —  Critic,  New  York. 

"  It  is  not  undue  praise  to  say  that,  since  the  publication  of  Goethe's  '  Elective 
Affinities,'  no  such  relentless  analysis  of  the  human  emotions,  and  of  the  action 
and  reaction  of  social  relations,  has  appeared  as  is  shown  in  Count  Tolstoi's 
povel,  *  Anna  Kar^nina.' "  —  Boston  Traveller. 


THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  &   CO., 

13  ASTOR   PLACE,   NEW  YORK. 


WHAT  THE  CRITICS  SAY  OF 

Crowell's  Illustrated  Edition 

OF 

LES  MISERABLES. 


"  This  translation  of  Victor  Hugo's  masterpiece  is  the  best  one 
that  has  been  made."  — N.  Y.  Observer. 

"  Can  hardly  fail  to  be  accepted  by  critical  authorities  as  the  per' 
manent  Standard." — Boston  Traveller. 

"  Has  been  many  times  translated  into  English,  but  never  has  the 
work  been  done  by  so  clever  and  faithful  a  translator  as  Miss  Hap- 
good."  —  Albany  Press. 

"  The  most  spirited  rendering  of  Hugo's  masterpiece  into  Eng- 
lish, and  the  illustrations  and  the  letter-press  are  just  as  deserving 
of  praise."  —  Phila.  Press. 

"The  translation  will  no  doubt  supersede  all  others." — Cm« 
Times- Star. 

*'  The  publishers  have  made  this  book  very  attractive.  They  are 
to  be  commended  not  only  for  the  edition  before  us,  but  more 
especially  for  a  popular  edition  which  will  make  this  great  work 
accessible  to  a  wider  class  of  readers."  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

*'  Deserves  the  highest  praise."  — Nation. 

"Miss  Hapgood  is  sympathetic;  she  becomes  one  with  her 
author.  Her  rendering  of  '  Les  Mis6rables '  has  not  been  equalled. 
It  will  not  be  surpassed.  The  standard  —  it  is  here  —  is  attained." 
— National  Bepublican. 

ASK  YOUR  BOOKSELLER  FOR  " 

CROWELL'S     ILLUSTRATED     EDITION 

—  OF  — 

LES  MISERABLES. 

By  VICTOR  HUGO.  Translated  from  the  French  by  Isabel 
F.  Hapgood.  With  160  full-page  illustrations,  printed  on  fine 
calendered  paper,  and  bound  in  neat  and  attractive  style. 

5  vols.,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $7.50;   half  calf,  $15.00. 

Popular  edition  in  one  vol.,  12mo,  $1.50. 


THOMAS    Y.    CROWELL    &    CO. 

13    ASTOR    PLACE,    NEW    YORK. 


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